


In The Blood

by GreenHairBand



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Vampire Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6763360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenHairBand/pseuds/GreenHairBand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is an abomination; a creature that is both vampire and human, and he lives in a city fully occupied by vampires of pure blood. In order to stay safe, he must keep his lineage a secret but when he is thrown into a war between the races, which side will he choose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is an abomination; a creature that is both vampire and human, and he lives in a city fully occupied by vampires of pure blood. In order to stay safe, he must keep his lineage a secret but when he is thrown into a war between the races, which side will he choose?

Sam Campbell swirled the contents of his mug with a mild feeling of disgust. He hated this part. The part where he had to pretend to be the same as everybody else in the city. The part where he had to pretend to be a vampire. 

He supposed he was lucky really that he wasn’t forced to drink from the vein, which seemed to be the favoured approach to feeding. He had tried that when he was younger and still suffered from the nightmares about it. Seeing the skinny, broken man shaking in the corner of the dark cell had destroyed something inside of Sam and he knew, even as he wrapped his small hands around the man’s bony arm and let his fangs push through his gums, that there was no way he would be able to go through with this. Sam remembered forcing himself to bite into the flesh and the feeling of warm blood as it gushed into his mouth and down his throat. Before it had a chance to reach his stomach he had ripped himself away from the man, gagging at the taste. His mother had been so disappointed, having been convinced that this was the solution to her son’s inability to keep blood down. In the end she resigned herself to giving Sam as little blood as was possible without drawing suspicion and having him eat regular, human food when no one else was looking. 

It was her fault, she once told Sam, it was her fault and she was sorry. For it was she who had been foolish enough to fall in love with a human; a man who had run for the hills, the moment he found out what she was. And because of her mistake, Sam was paying the price.

But, now at the age of eighteen, Sam and his mother had managed to successfully trick the others in the city into believing he was a real life vampire, who was just as strong, agile and bloodthirsty as the rest of them. He had even managed to join the ranks of the Dayguard, who protected the city during the daylight hours whilst the others slept. It was a great way to be able to enjoy the sunlight without looking completely crazy. Vampires weren’t allergic to sunlight. But too much of it hurt their eyes and burned their skin so they tended to go out only during the night. Sam managed to deal a little better in the light but still burned if he stayed out too long. 

“Hey, Sam, you finished your supper yet or what?” A voice called from behind Sam, snapping him out of his reverie. He glanced back and saw his long-time friend, Benny Lafitte, making his way through the mostly empty mess hall. They’d been friends since they were little when Sam had accidentally spilt his mug of blood over him during dinner. Instead of being angry, like Sam had expected, he had just licked his lips and started laughing. 

Sam looked at his still full mug now and grimaced when he realised it wasn’t even warm any more. Cold blood was so much harder to stomach than hot.  
Benny clamped a hand down on his shoulder, “Well now, you’ve barely even started. You best hurry it up, brother, our shift outside starts in two minutes.” 

Sam pushed his food away and stood up. “I’m not hungry,” he said.

Benny raised his eyebrows questioningly but didn’t say anything as they headed outside.

It was early in the morning. The sun had barely risen above the distant hills and the air was still cold and crisp. Sam wrapped his jacket tightly around himself as he strode towards his and Benny’s usual surveillance tower on the west side of the city wall. The wall was impenetrable. A thick stone barrier standing at over twenty feet tall to protect all the vampiric residents inside from the world outside. From all the hunters and the werewolves that wanted them dead. 

Sam couldn’t really blame the humans for hating them. After all, vampires fed on humans. They took them from their homes and family in the dead of night, put them in a farm to be harvested and eventually killed them, before starting the cycle all over again. It was their way of life. How they managed to keep everyone well fed and happy. It was no different to how humans kept and killed livestock in order to eat. But Sam still understood their animosity. 

Upon reaching the top of the tower, Sam and Benny relieved the other two guards of their duty and settled into position. 

“Reckon we’ll actually see something today?” Benny asked with a grin.

Sam grinned back. “Maybe another deer. That’s about as exciting as it gets around here."  
”  
Benny sighed theatrically, “How did I end up with such a dull job? I bet the raiders have a lot more fun.”

Sam tried to keep the smile on his face as he outwardly agreed but inwardly he couldn’t think of a worse thing to be. The raiders were the ones who went out hunting for new blood when the farms were running low. 

They spent the next few hours in companionable silence, watching as the sun rose higher and lit up the surrounding forest. They had barely one more hour left before their first shift was over and Sam was beginning to give up hope in seeing so much as a single rabbit out there. It was going to be one of those quiet days.

But then Benny gasped and grabbed hold of Sam’s arm tightly. 

“Did you see that?” he whispered.

“See what?” Sam asked, squinting in the direction Benny appeared to be looking. 

“Something just moved,” 

Sam continued to search for what had startled Benny but still found nothing. 

A minute passed and then he saw it. A dark shape shifting near the outside of the woodlands. It was too tall to be a deer and for a moment Sam felt his stomach flip at the thought of what it could be but then the dark shape burst out from the trees and Sam recognised the black coat of the Dayguard. 

Sam sighed in relief. “He’s one of ours.”

Benny’s grip only tightened. “No, something is wrong.”

The guard looked terrified, even from where they stood at their high vantage point. He was running hard towards the wall, his eyes wide and chest heaving. Benny unclipped his hand held radio. 

“Open the gate!” He cried into it, eyes fixed on the sprinting guard. 

By now, Sam knew that there was something really wrong, especially since all guards were required to travel with at least one other companion and this man had none.

As he watched, another two dark shapes fell out of the trees but these two were not in uniform. They both wore dark denim pants and green shirts. Their sun bleached hair was long and tied back and, most alarmingly, their skin was deeply tanned. They were human. Sam glanced at the long knives they both brandished and his heart lurched as he realised exactly what they were. 

They were hunters.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters attack. Violence Ensues.

“He’s not going to make it,” Benny murmured, watching in horror as the guard raced towards the city, the two hunters hot on his trail. 

Sam hoisted his rifle and aimed is at the nearest assailant but quickly lowered it with a growl. “They’re still too far away. I can’t get them from here.”

“We have to help him,” Benny said, turning sharply on his heel and running down the spiral staircase, barking orders into the radio and requesting backup. Sam followed hastily, jumping three steps at a time in order to catch up with his friend. 

“There’s only two of them,” he assured Benny. “We can take them.”

“There will be more of them out there, brother. Hunters don’t venture this close to the city by themselves. They ain’t that stupid.” 

When they reached the gate, there were five other soldiers already making their way out, guns and swords at the ready. Sure, vampires were physically stronger than their human counterparts but they preferred to fight with weapons when they could. Sam and Benny joined the group and the gate shut slowly behind them.

They couldn’t help but gasp at the sight that awaited. Benny had been right. Four more hunters had left the shadows of the forest and joined the chase, making six in total. They were closer now and Sam could see the two in the lead were both female; one young and pretty and the other in her older years. The four in the back were all male. 

He could also see the pursued guard a whole lot clearer.

“It’s Luther,” he whispered to no one in particular as they all sprinted forward to help their comrade. Luther was one of the newest recruits. He and Sam were around the same age and had even gone to school together but they had never been able to get on that well. Luther had a fiery temper and the bad habit of getting his humans drunk before bleeding them dry, stating that they tasted better that way. 

The women were almost upon him now but so were the Dayguard. Just as the young female pounced, striking forward with her knife, Benny made his move, dropping down to one knee and firing his gun. A loud shot rang out and the girl was flung back with the force of the bullet that tore through her stomach. 

“Jo!” The other woman cried out, flinging herself next to the fallen female as the men behind them and the vampires in front converged upon each other.

Luther stumbled past, pulling free from the fray. He was paler than usual and his eyes had a glazed expression to them. Sam pulled him behind the others quickly to keep him out of harm’s way whilst he gave him a quick once over. His neck was bruised and Sam took hold of his chin to turn his face for a better look. As well as the bruising, there were track marks. Several of them all clustered closely together. 

“Dead man’s blood,” Luther gasped in explanation. 

Sam swore softy. Dead man’s blood was practically poison to them. 

“They killed Lenore,” Luther carried on breathlessly. “And…and Kate.”

Sam winced but forced himself not to think about it yet. There would be time to grieve their deaths later. 

“They tied us down. Injected us. Kept asking us about someone called…Ash. Didn’t believe we didn’t know. I…got away but…” Luther looked close to collapsing.

Sam interrupted him, taking him by the shoulders and giving him a quick shake. “Can you make it back to the gate?”

Luther nodded shakily.

“Then go,” Sam pushed him gently towards the direction of the city. “We’ll take care of this.” And with that he launched himself towards the ongoing fight, determined to avenge his friends. 

He threw himself at a hunter that had Benny pinned to the ground. The impact sent them both tumbling through the long grass as they grappled with each other, trying to get the upper hand. 

Sam cursed himself for not having drawn his weapon out beforehand. He had seen Benny in trouble and just reacted on instinct but he regretted his haste. 

He managed to slam the hunter onto his back and straddle his legs to partially incapacitate him but before he could pin the man’s arms as well, the hunter slashed upwards with the knife. Sam flinched away but it still caught the side of his face, leaving a long gash from his jaw to just below his eye. He hissed and fell back a little and the hunter managed to wiggle out from under him. 

Before Sam had a chance to retaliate the hunter was on top of him, pushing the blade up against his neck. Sam caught the man’s wrists and tried to push back but he could feel the blade sinking slowly deeper. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could have been born a full vampire with the strength that his kind were supposed to have. 

The man above him smiled wildly and for a moment Sam was sure he was a goner but then the smile turned into an expression of shock and blood dribbled out of his hanging mouth before he collapsed on top the stunned boy. 

Sam shakily pushed him off with one hand, clutching at his neck with the other and saw Benny stood above him, bloody sword in his grasp.

“You alright there, Sam?” 

“Yeah. Thanks, man.” Sam breathed and allowed his friend to haul him to his feet. 

They glanced back at the other hunters and guards and knew the fight was almost won. The hunters were tiring fast and the vampires outnumbered them five to two. It wouldn’t be long now until it was over. 

A thought suddenly struck Sam. The women! The older one and the one called Jo. They weren’t in the fight, nor were they lying among the dead. 

Sam whipped his head around, trying to catch sight of them.

Benny noticed. “What are you looking…aww, crap.” 

They both spotted the women at the same time, just as they disappeared into the woodlands. The older woman had her arms hooked under Jo’s arms and was dragging her backwards through the dense brush. 

Sam and Benny took off after them. It didn’t take them long to catch up. The female hunters had barely made it thirty feet through the trees when the vampires drew near. 

The older one visibly sagged when she caught sight of them. Then she gently lowered Jo to the ground and planted herself firmly in front of her, drawing her knife and glaring at Sam.

“Come and get it, fang,” she growled. 

Sam went to move forward but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave this one to me, eh, brother?” Benny said softly. Sam sent him a sideways glance and noticed the look in his eyes. He was hungry. 

Sam sighed, nodded and backed away to let his friend take care of the women but as Benny crept forward, Sam heard something, a faint whirring sound that had no place in the forest.

“Benny, look out!” He cried, suddenly realising what it was. But it was too late. Benny snapped his head up to look for the source of the sound and at that moment a bladed boomerang flew out from in between the trees and sliced straight through his neck before imbedding itself in a nearby tree trunk. 

Benny’s body instantly crumpled and his head rolled a few times, coming to a stop at Sam’s feet, dead eyes staring up accusingly at him. 

A cold wave of shock washed through Sam and he felt bile rise in his throat.

“That was too easy,” a voice called from somewhere behind the women. 

A new figure came into sight, another man around the same age as the older woman. 

“I almost feel sorry for him,” the man said flatly, his gaze never leaving Sam’s. “Almost.” 

Something inside Sam snapped and with an inhuman yell, he hurdled forward, sword drawn and at the ready. He swung at the man and the man parried the blow with his blade before launching his own attack. 

Back and forth they exchanged blows until finally the man lunged too far forward, leaving himself wide open. Without a moment’s hesitation Sam plunged his sword into the hunter’s side. Screaming, the man fell to the floor, clutching at the gaping wound. Sam didn’t stop. Again and again he stabbed, hacked and sliced at the man and continued to do so long after the hunter had stopped moving. 

A small gasp awoke him from his bloodlust and he spun around to face the older woman. Her face had lost all colour and she quivered where she stood. Knife held tightly in her hands as her eyes flicked from Sam to the dead hunter and back to Sam again. 

Sam snarled at her, baring fangs that had descended without him even realising and swung his sword at her knife. She lost grip of the blade instantly and fell back, falling over Jo’s body. 

Jo groaned softly, startling Sam. She was still alive. 

He stepped towards her, sword raised but before he could finish off the job Benny had started, the older hunter flung herself over the young woman’s body.  
“Please,” she cried. “Please don’t hurt my daughter.”

Sam faltered, staring down at the woman as she sobbed, holding her daughter tightly to her chest and the dark rage that had filled him only moments ago began to ebb away. Suddenly, he found he wasn’t looking at a pair of hunters anymore. He was looking at a parent trying desperately to protect her child. Just like his mother always tried to protect him. He dropped his sword, no longer able to do this.

“Go,” he said. 

The mother looked up at him, a confused frown creasing her brow.

“Get out of here!” He yelled.

The woman gasped and scrambled to her feet, quickly wrapping her arms around Jo’s middle and dragging her back through the woods again.

Sam watched them until they were out of sight and then looked back at Benny’s body, sadness clutching at his heart so hard, it hurt to breathe. He took a couple of steps forward before collapsing to the dirt floor. He laid his head on his fallen friend’s chest and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all those who love Benny: I'm sorry!!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Orlov debriefs his men and plans their next move.

The others found Sam half an hour later, hunched over and staring blankly at the ground. He was covered in blood and gore. Some of it was his own but most was human. The smell of it was almost over powering. 

Whilst one guard helped Sam back to the city, the others set about bringing back the bodies of both Benny and the mutilated hunter. 

Once he was safely inside the walls, Sam was placed in a small, dimly lit room within the barracks. 

“Please wait here,” the guard said before exiting. “Commander Orlov will be here shortly.”

Sam nodded tiredly as he sat down on a wooden bench, resting his head in his hands.

Commander Boris Orlov was the appointed ruler of the city. At six hundred and thirty years of age, he was by far the oldest Vampire to live within the walls. 

Sam had only met him a handful of times throughout his life and though Boris looked harmless enough, he had an aura about him that demanded respect, even fear from all of his men. 

A few minutes passed by and Sam tried to get his thoughts together. The commander was going to want to know what had happened to Benny in those woods and what had become of the female hunters. That one was going to be hard to explain away. 

As he worried about the consequences of actually telling the truth, the door opened again and Commander Orlov strode in, accompanied by several of the guards who had fought earlier and an incredibly sick looking Luther.

Sam stood up to attention and brought his right hand to his head in salute.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Boris grumbled. 

Sam did so and the others followed suit.

Boris surveyed Sam with cold grey eyes, taking in the wounds and blood caked clothes. “You look terrible,” he stated.

The sides of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a slight smirk. “I don’t feel much better.”

Boris grunted and then leant forward, arms resting on his knees as he swept his eyes over all the men in the room. “So, tell me what happened.”

Unease blossomed within Sam as he started off the report, explaining what he and Benny had seen from the tower and how they had acted from there. He continued his statement up to the point where Benny saved him from a beheading, when another guard took over to tell the commander what happened with the others who were fighting at that time. 

“And then what happened?” Boris questioned Sam again, when the guard had finished.

Sam took in a deep breath. This was the part he had been dreading. He told them how he and Benny had chased the female hunters into the woods and been surprise attacked by another who lay in wait. Emotion swept through him again, as he told them of Benny’s death, but he kept it in check, pushing it back down as soon as it rose up and keeping his voice as monotone and professional as he could. 

“What of the females? Did you dispose of them too? We never found the bodies.” Sam could practically hear the accusation in Boris’ gruff voice.

“They made their escape whilst I fought the other hunter.” the lie came easily to his lips. He usually hated being dishonest in any way but this was more of an instinctive thing, knowing that his future would be very bleak if the commander found out the truth. “I looked for them afterwards but could not find them.”  
“You could not track them? You say the younger one sustained a serious wound and yet you could not follow her scent?”

Sam had nothing to say to that, no easy lie to cover up his mistake so instead he just shook his head remorsefully and replied, “I’m sorry, Sir.” 

Boris glared at him and for a terrifying moment, he didn’t think the commander believed him but then he just sighed angrily. “Leaving them for as long as you did was a foolish, rookie mistake.”

“Yes, Sir, it won’t happen again.” 

“See that it doesn’t.” Boris growled before turning his attention to Luther. “You haven’t said a word yet, soldier. I would hear your record of events.”

Luther seemed to pale even further under his scrutiny and though Sam didn’t much care for the guy, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him and think that, considering what he had been through over the past twenty four hours, it would have been kinder to debrief him separately. 

But Luther managed to successfully give his account to the group. He told of how he, Kate and Lenore had gone on patrol the night before, scouting the nearby area before being ambushed by the group of hunters. Lenore was slain in the subsequent fray and the other two were taken to an abandoned hut in the middle of the forest and tied to chairs. 

“They tortured us,” Luther continued quietly. “They cut us, beat us, injected us with dead man’s blood. They kept asking us questions about someone called Ash. Where we were keeping him and what we had done to him. Things like that.” 

Sam flicked his gaze to Boris to see that his whole demeanour had changed. He had gone from quietly seething to poorly disguised surprise. 

Luther didn’t seem to notice as he carried on with his report. “After the interrogation, Kate somehow managed to escape her bonds. She freed me but as we tried to escape…” he gulped heavily and glared at his clasped, trembling hands. “The hunters killed her. They tried to kill me too but I managed to get away. They almost caught me as I neared the city but my comrades saved me before that could happen.” 

There was a moment’s silence before the commander spoke. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, Luther.” he said, voice uncharacteristically soft, almost caring. “I know that you and Kate were close.”

They were more than close. They were engaged to be married. Luther only nodded. 

Sam couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay any longer. He had to ask. “Sir, if I may? Do you know this ‘Ash’ the hunters were asking after?” 

Boris looked at Sam and raised his eyebrows. “I have no idea who Ash is. I can only assume the hunters were either misinformed or completely crazy. Personally, I am more inclined towards the latter.”

There was a ripple of amused approval across the room but Sam wasn’t as easily fooled. The commander was hiding something. 

Boris stood suddenly. “Well it is late, I imagine you are all very tired. You should go and rest. You are all dismissed.”

Everyone stood, saluted and turned to leave.

“Except for you, Campbell. I would like a word with you.” 

Sam sank slowly back down, dread churning in his stomach yet again. 

After everyone had left, Boris shut the door and sat opposite to the younger vampire. 

“I saw what you did to the hunter in the woods.” Boris stated and fear surged through Sam. Did that mean the commander had seen him let the female hunters go? That he knew Sam had just lied to his face?

“The body, I mean.” The commander amended. “I was shown the body. You made quite a mess of him.” 

Sam tried to calm his hammering heart, realising his lie was safe for now. 

“Yes, Sir, I…I was angry.” Sam finished lamely.

“Losing your friend in the midst of battle can do that to you.”

Sam nodded, wondering where this was going.

Boris leant forward. “You are herewith dismissed from you place within the Dayguard.”

Shock washed over Sam. “Sir, I-” 

“Let me finish. I am placing you within the infantry division. We could use someone with your capabilities. Especially given recent events.”

“Sir?”

“The hunters have declared war with us, Campbell and I am more than happy to oblige. Two days from now, we will march into their camp and we will destroy every last one of them.” 

.....***.....

“You’re in the infantry?” Mary screeched.

“For the hundredth time, yes, Mom.” Sam sighed.

“And you’re leaving to fight in two days?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you completely insane?” Mary practically screamed at him.

Sam winced. “Mom, please calm down. I thought you’d be happy. I’ve been promoted.” 

“Happy? Happy that my son, my vulnerable little boy, is going off to war against hardened, vicious killers?” 

“I’m not a vulnerable little boy,” Sam grumbled.

Mary looked on the verge of tears. “Yes you are,” she whispered. “You are not like the rest of us. You aren’t as strong. You could have died today. Benny did die and he was a pure-blood!”

“I know, Mom.”

“Just…just promise me you’ll be careful. That you won’t try to be a hero.”

Sam wasn’t sure he could, in good faith, make that promise but Mary looked so heart broken and scared right now that he just couldn’t refuse her.

“I promise,”

Mary nodded, wiping at her eyes even a fresh sob escaped her mouth. 

Sam sighed and went over to her, pulling her into a gentle hug and holding her until the crying began to cease. 

“You need to wash,” Mary said eventually, pulling away from him and wrinkling her nose. “You reek of human and it’s making me hungry.”  
Sam huffed a laugh. “Sure, I’ll go do that now.”

“And you need to drink some blood. Those wounds will take too long to close up if you don’t and we can’t have anyone notice how slowly you heal.” 

Sam grimaced but knew she was right. He was going to need at least two mugs, maybe more. He needed to heal up and be at the top of his game. In two days’ time, he was going to war.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vampire army attacks the humans' settlement and Sam faces off against a formidable hunter.

It certainly wasn’t what he had predicted. Sam had expected the hunters’ camp to be filled with large tents and fires and rough looking men sharpening their blades. But what he saw below him, from where he sat at the edge of a cliff, was a village, a village with farms and thatch houses, gardens full of colourful flowers, ordinary looking men and women milling around as they went about their daily lives and children playing one with another, running and shouting and laughing. 

This could not possibly be a hunters’ settlement. 

And yet it was. 

The group of vampire soldiers had followed the faint trail that the female hunters had left behind and had found several traces along the way that led them to believe the hunters they had already killed had also come from this direction. 

Now all that was left to do was wait until nightfall, when most of the humans would be asleep and unprepared for the slaughter that would be upon them. 

And it would be slaughter. There were just under a hundred vampires in their group and even that was over-kill against so small a village. A small village with no apparent defence. They had no wall to protect them. They didn’t so much as have a wooden fence. 

Sam shuddered. He should want this. He should want this with all his being. Benny was dead because of the humans. Lenore and Kate were dead because of the humans. He should want to destroy this town as a tribute to their memories but as he looked down at the village, he couldn’t bring himself to want that at all. There were too many innocents involved. Too many that had played no part in the attack against them. 

“Can’t sleep?” a voice asked and Sam whirled around. It was Luther. He had his arm raised across his brow and his blue eyes squinted against the brightness of the sun.

“No,” Sam replied, turning back to the village. 

Luther joined him. “Me neither. I’m too excited.”

“Yeah,” Sam grunted non-committedly. “Excited. Do we really have to kill them all?”

“You heard the commander. Every one of them has to die. This is retribution. We can’t just let the hunters do what they want.”

“Not everyone down there is a hunter,” Sam reminded him.

“Perhaps not, but if they aren’t hunters themselves, then they are harbouring hunters and that is just as bad. This is a clear message that we are not to be trifled with.” Luther said, voice hard and angry. “I thought you of all people would understand that. You lost someone you care about too.”

Sam glared at him. “Of course I understand. I do…but…there are children down there.” 

Luther scowled back. “Children who will grow to be hunters. Besides, do you think a human would show mercy to a vampire child? No. We are all monsters to them, no matter how young we are.”

“I guess tonight we’ll be proving them right.”

With a growl of frustration, Luther turned on his heels and stalked back towards the temporary camp they had set up. “Get some sleep. You’ll need it for tonight.”

.....***.....

Sam did sleep. But it wasn’t the restful kind. It was the kind that was plagued with nightmares of blood and death and left him feeling more exhausted than he had beforehand. 

He awoke to the sound of a guard whispering into his tent that the sun was setting and it was time to prepare. 

With a moan of displeasure, he rolled off his mat and set about quietly packing away his things along with the others that shared that shelter.

It didn’t take long to disassemble the campsite completely and they were ready before the sky was dark. They waited and watched as the last of the humans disappeared into their houses, leaving only several guards posted on the outskirts of the village. The tavern still seemed to be occupied, with bright lights shining out through the windows and the faint sound of music and laughter but that did not matter. By now, the people in there were probably too inebriated to do much in the way of fighting back. 

As one, the soldiers crept down the hill, keeping low out of precaution but knowing that with their black clothing and the cover of nightfall, they were all but invisible to the naked eye. 

The first of the guards soon came into view. He hadn’t seen them yet, he was too busy gazing up at the starless sky, a look of absolute boredom on his face.  
A twig snapped under Sam’s boot and the guard turned sharply but Boris was upon him before he had a chance to call out, his meaty hand coving the man’s mouth and quickly running him through with his sword. 

Boris let the guard drop and then signalled for the group to split up. Half of the men were to follow him and the other half were to circle around back. 

Sam followed the commander in through the front of the village, Boris and another of the soldiers dispatching two more guards along the way.  
And then it began. 

The assembly of vampires split into further groups and converged upon the houses. Breaking down doors and smashing through windows, slaying all those inside and setting the buildings alight afterwards. 

Screams and shouts tore through the air and Sam froze in the middle of the cobble stoned road, a wave of cold dread washing over him. This all felt so wrong and he suddenly wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to force himself to take any part of it.

Hunters he could kill. Hunters he would kill. He had proven that already. But killing those too weak to defend themselves didn’t seem to be an ability he had within him. 

“Sam!” Luther yelled as he ran past him, further into the village. “To the tavern. With me.” 

Sam tried to push his doubts to the back of his mind as he and two other soldiers quickly followed Luther through the winding streets.

The church bell suddenly rang out, alerting all those who weren’t yet aware, that they were under attack.

Faces began to appear in windows before drawing back in alarm, when they caught sight of Sam and the others. 

I’m sorry, Sam thought sadly when he caught sight of a small child, no older than four, peering out at him from behind one window with wide, frightened eyes.

The tavern was at the heart of the village, built in the very centre, and upon reaching it, Luther threw open the door and rushed straight in, eager to do his part of the killing. Sam followed through at the back at a much slower and careful pace, in case someone tried to attack him from behind the door, but no one did.  
Everyone inside had prepared themselves for battle, it seemed. Tables were upturned and some men had positioned themselves behind them, firing their rifles and pistols at the vampires even though they knew that mere guns wouldn’t be able to stop them. 

Sam cursed as he felt one bullet rip into his shoulder and glared up at the man that had shot him. The man paled under his gaze but shot at him again anyway.  
Sam dodged this one easily and leapt forward over the table and onto the man, pinning him down before tearing the gun from his grip and slamming it against his temple. The man’s eyes rolled up and he slumped, unconscious.

A sudden idea hit Sam then. An idea that would let him survive the night and still allow him to be able to live with himself afterwards. He could still fight, still appear to be intent on butchering the humans but instead of killing them, he’d just knock them unconscious. 

The other vampires would notice that they were alive eventually but at least Sam wouldn’t be the one to deliver the death blow. 

It wasn’t perfect but it was the best plan that Sam had so far. 

He jumped upon another man that had tried to sneak up from behind him, grabbing him by the hair and smacking his head against the solid wood of a fallen table several times until he too went limp. 

“Sam,” Luther shouted, barely audible over the other yells and shots in the room. 

Sam turned to see him straddling one of the bar maids, who lay completely still beneath him, blood dribbling messily down his chin.  
Sam barely held back a flinch at the sight. 

“Stairs,” Luther told him, flicking his head in the direction of the staircase.

With a quick nod, Sam took off towards the stairs, ignoring the shots that were fired after him. 

He flew up the steps quickly but kept his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of attack that may have lain ahead.

The upstairs corridor was unlit and completely empty. He made his way to the first door on his left and threw it open, ready to attack but it was completely empty, save for the two bare mattresses on the floor. It was likely that the occupants of those beds were fighting downstairs.

The next two rooms were exactly the same but the third was different. As well as the mattress on the floor, there was also a wardrobe in the corner. A wardrobe that Sam should probably check just to be sure he didn’t miss someone.

He crept towards it silently, gun in hand and prepared to take a look inside when he heard the metallic sound of a knife being drawn behind him.

He spun around, barely missing the edge of the knife as it slashed at the air next to his face. The man wielding it snarled and went for him again. 

It was dark in the room but Sam could just about make out the outline of his assailant.

He was tall. That was the first thing Sam noticed. He was used to towering a head and shoulders above everyone else but this man could have only been a couple of inches shorter. He was also fast, light on his feet and wielded the knife incredibly well. Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt that this man was a hunter.

“Give it up, fang.” the man growled as he lunged yet again and Sam had suddenly had enough of playing defence. He brought up the gun he had stolen earlier and swung it at the man’s head. 

As though he had already predicted the move, the hunter swiftly ducked and barrelled forward, head-butting Sam in the middle and tackling him to the ground.

Before Sam could attempt to move, the hunter’s knife was at his throat and Sam couldn’t help flashing back to the fight two days previous when he had found himself in exactly the same position. 

They had fallen upon the one patch of light in the room, lit up by the moon that shone brightly through the small window. 

Sam glowered up at the hunter, breathing harshly and baring his fangs in what he hoped was a threatening manner, and he realised this hunter was barely any older than he was. There were probably only a couple of years between them. His light brown hair was cropped short and his eyes were impossibly green as they stared back at him.

“Dammit, you’re just a kid.” the hunter breathed and he retracted the knife a little, allowing Sam to breathe without fear of slicing his neck open. 

Sam barely had time to wonder about what this meant before the door was thrown open again. Luther stood there, blood still dripping down his front as he took in the sight of Sam on the floor, at the mercy of the young hunter, before he unclipped something from his belt.

“Sorry, Sammy,” he winked as he pulled at the top of the thing in his hand, threw it into the middle of the room and then quickly slammed the door shut once more. 

Sam stared at the thing on the ground beside him for one shocked moment before he realised what it was. 

The hunter above him seemed to recognise it at the same time. “Grenade,” he gasped, throwing himself from Sam and running for the door.  
Sam tried to scramble away too but he only managed to make it a few feet before the thing went off. 

There was an almighty bang and heat slammed into Sam’s back, searing his skin and throwing him forcefully against a wall. His head stuck stone with a hollow thud and he knew no more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam cares for the young injured hunter and his little brother

“w…up…Dean…lease…wake up…”

A small, frightened voice begged brokenly. 

Sam heard it without understanding the words, too focussed on trying to claw his way back to consciousness but struggling to escape the smothering blackness that seemed reluctant to loosen its hold on his mind. 

“Please, you have to wake up.” The voice said again.

I’m trying, Sam thought, having understood the words this time but not realising that they weren’t meant for him. 

Finally, the blackness began to recede, leaving Sam with a faint ringing in his ears and a back that felt like it was on fire. He groaned and the desperate voice suddenly stopped. 

Sam pried his eyes open and found himself lying face down on a hard, wooden floor. And it was light. How long had he been out? 

He tried to push himself up but fell back down with a gasp when his back erupted in pain. 

For a moment, his mind struggled to piece together enough memories to figure out what had happened to him and then he remembered. He remembered the raid and the fighting and the hunter and Luther and the bomb. He remembered everything.

A sharp feeling of betrayal stabbed at his heart but he pushed it away for later. Now was not the time. 

He tried to sit up again, slowly this time so that it wouldn’t be as painful but, although he managed to heave himself upright, moving still really hurt. 

He looked around fuzzily, taking in the smashed window, the gaping, ragged hole in the middle of the floor and the scorched black wardrobe and then his gaze strayed towards the exit and he felt his eyes widen in surprise.

Laid out on the ground next to the door was the hunter from last night, limbs splayed out messily, face pale and pinched in pain even in his unconscious state.

That part didn’t surprise Sam. He knew the hunter wouldn’t have made it out of the room fast enough to avoid the blast if he hadn’t. Although, the fact that he was still alive was a little astonishing.

No, what surprised Sam was the young boy kneeling next to the hunter. He couldn’t have been any older than twelve and was staring at Sam in growing terror. 

He looked a lot like the hunter, Sam thought, but his eyes weren’t quite as green and his hair was lighter. 

Sam clambered to his feet a lot less gracefully than he was used to and tried his very best to ignore the pain. His head ached a little but when Sam felt at his forehead, there was only a slight bump from where he had hit the wall. Thankfully his healing abilities had kicked in to save him from concussion even if it hadn’t been able to help his back all that much.

The last time he remembered being this badly burned was when he had accidentally fallen asleep outside during the day. He had woken up with bright red skin and weeping sores. Mary had grounded him for two weeks when he finally returned home.

As he approached the two humans, the boy shrunk back a little but he resolutely kept one arm on the hunters shoulder as he shook him and breathed, “Dean, please.” 

Sam didn’t pay the boy any further attention. He was too small and too scared to be a threat of any kind. He focused instead on the limp hunter called Dean and on how he was going to haul him out of the way without murdering his back all over again. 

“Stay away from us,” the boy said, voice wavering. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to leave the room now, and you’d be stuck in here with me all day. Is that what you want?”

The boy balked. Apparently he hadn’t been expecting an reply. 

Sam waited and finally the boy hesitantly shook his head. 

“That’s what I thought,” Sam smirked. “You know this guy?” He indicated the hunter with a flick of his head.

The boy nodded this time. “My brother.”

Brothers. The striking similarities between them made sense now.

“Don’t suppose you can move him out of the way for me?”

It was a long shot. The boy was half the size of Dean but maybe he would be able to drag him out of the way and Sam wouldn’t have to do anything strenuous.

The long shot worked. The boy hooked his arms under Dean’s pits and slowly pulled him back, just far enough so that Sam had access to door.

“Appreciate it,” Sam said and opened the door to leave. 

He would travel home, let everyone know he had survived (Mary would be so worried) and then he would talk to the commander about Luther, assuming Luther was still alive. Treachery was not something that was tolerated within the city. 

But the moment he stepped into the corridor, an image flashed through his mind that made him he pause. He saw the moment Dean had realised how young Sam was, saw how he stared at him in shock and withdrew the knife a little. The hunter could have killed him then and there but he hadn’t.

Sam shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory. It didn’t matter that the hunter had spared him momentarily. He would have killed him in the end, right? He was a hunter and that’s what they did.

But the memory wouldn’t let him go and Sam sighed angrily. Of course, his conscience would act up again now of all times, when all he wanted to do was go home. 

He stilled and focused on his hearing. He hadn’t had to do this in a while and it was something he had always found difficult but eventually he was able to pick up the sound of Dean’s beating heart. 

It was slow and weak, barely even there and his breathing was shallow, and Sam knew with a surety that if he didn’t receive help soon, he would die. Even with assistance, that was still a possibility.

With another self-loathing sigh, Sam trudged back into the room.

The boy glanced up at him, fear lighting his eyes yet again. 

“What’s your name, Kid?”

The boy hesitated a moment before replying. “Adam.”

“Okay, Adam, I need you to listen to me. Your brother is dying.”

Adam flinched.

“He needs help and I’m guessing we are the only ones still left here.”

The boy nodded again. 

Sam was glad of that. If there had been other humans about, escaping the broken village might have proven difficult and if there had been any vampires left in the area, then Dean and Adam were as good as dead anyway.

“I need to check him and see what’s wrong. I promise I’m not going to hurt him. Or you,” he added as an afterthought.

“You’re going to help us?” Adam looked positively confounded by the notion.

“I’m going to try.” Sam stressed. Damn conscience.

“And…you’re not going to eat us?”

A bark of laughter escaped Sam’s lips. “I haven’t done so yet, have I?” 

The answer seemed to pacify Adam because he shuffled away, allowing Sam to look at his older brother.

Sam knelt stiffly and felt at Dean with gentle fingers. He found a large bump on the side of his head, just above his ear, and there was an awful lot of blood dried up in his hair and streaked down the side of his face. 

And then there were the burns. His left hand and arm were covered in red and pink blotches that seemed to extend up under the sleeve of his grey T-shirt. Sam turned him slightly and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the shirt was still whole at the back. Dean hadn’t been as badly burned as him and for that Sam was grateful. He slowly lowered Dean onto his back again and turned to Adam.

“I’m going to need clean water, towels, some scissors and a couple of blankets. Think you can find all that for me?” 

Sam didn’t know a whole lot about first aid. He had never really had to learn. All he usually had to do was down some blood, try to not throw it back up and wait for his body to do the rest but he knew enough about the immediate treatment of sunburn and figured the same principle applied here. 

Adam nodded quickly and got up to leave but he hesitated at the door, sending Sam another wary frown.

“I won’t hurt him. You have my word.” Sam tried to assure him.

Adam muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, ‘Oh goodie, the word of a vampire,’ but he still left to find the requested items. 

Sam turned his attention back to the hunter, listening again to his weak breaths and struggling heartbeat. Then he glanced at the gaping hole that was still there in the middle of the room. It wasn’t really practical or safe to stay and treat Dean in there.

With a groan of both annoyance and pain, Sam picked Dean up, bridal style, and carried him to the next nearest room, which was untouched by the earlier battle, and placed him on one of the mattresses. 

The cold, clammy feel of his skin concerned Sam but he tried to ignore the worry and focus instead on helping.

He tapped Dean lightly on the cheek. “Wake up, dude, your brother needs you.”

Dean’s eyelids fluttered and hope soared through Sam. Maybe the hunter wasn’t a lost cause after all. He tapped him again. “Hey, you in there?”  
Dean groaned weakly and turned away from the offending hand.

“You need to wake up.” Sam insisted, tapping him harder this time and Dean’s eyes snapped open. They were unfocused and the pupils were blown wide, probably with concussion, but they were open. 

Sam grinned, pleased with himself. “It’s about time.”

“Whaa hap’n?” Dean slurred, eyes staring up just slightly to the left of Sam’s face. 

“You were hurt. I saved you. Or at least I’m trying to.” Sam informed him.

Dean’s eyes seemed to gain focus and recognition flooded them almost instantly. “You!” He gasped, struggling suddenly as though he were pinned down and unable to move from his spot on the floor. “Fang...you...where’s my brother? What did you do to him? Adam? ADAM!” He bellowed and Sam winced.

Adam was in the room almost instantly, his arms laden with towels and blankets.

“Dean,” he cried, dropping the blankets and rushing to the aid of his brother. “Are you okay?”

Dean grasped at Adam’s hands almost desperately. “Adam, what - ” 

“You were hurt, Dean, but it’s okay. We’re gonna get you better.” 

Dean shot a panicked look in Sam’s direction, “But…”

“It’s alright. He’s on our side.”

Dean looked as though he was going to argue further but he passed out again before he could utter another sound. 

“Dean?” Adam squeaked in alarm.

“He’s okay, just tired. Did you get everything?”

“Everything except the water but there’s a bathroom at the end of the corridor.”

“That’ll work,” Sam said, handing three of the towels back to Adam. “Go and soak these in water. Try to make it lukewarm. We don’t want it too cold.”

Adam left and Sam fished out a pair of scissors from underneath the bundle of blankets. He carefully cut up the side of Dean’s sleeve, all the way up to the collar and gently pulled back the fabric. Thankfully it hadn’t stuck to his skin and was easily moved out of the way. 

Sam assessed the damage and was pleased to find the burns didn’t extend further than the shoulder. The hunter had been lucky really. It could have been a lot worse. 

When Adam returned with the sodden towels, Sam took two of them and wrapped them loosely around the burned limb, making sure everything was covered.

With the third, he gently wiped the blood away from Dean’s face and dabbed at his head, careful that he didn’t accidentally reopen the wound. 

Dean groaned again but didn’t reawaken. 

Adam watched Sam’s every move with openly suspicious eyes and Sam couldn’t help but be a little offended that the boy didn’t trust him to keep his promise. If he had wanted to kill them, he could have done it several times over by now. 

Finally, he draped a couple of the blankets over Dean, avoiding the wounded arm.

“We’ll need to re-soak the towels every so often but that’s about all we can do for now. The rest is up to him.” He informed the boy who just nodded dismally from his place at Dean’s side. He reached under the covers and gripped Dean’s uninjured hand between both of his.

With a sigh, Sam pushed himself up to wash off in the bathroom, when Adam glanced up at him sharply. “You’re hurt too. Do you need help?”

Sam was a little shocked that the boy would even bother to ask but he masked his surprise with a small smile. “Nah, I’m good. Give it a couple of days and my back will be good as new. No hope for my coat though.” 

He hadn’t taken them off to check yet but the draft he felt was enough to tell him that the back of his coat and his shirt was shredded beyond repair.  
Adam smiled back slightly. “Okay.”

Sam retreated out of the room and let Adam have a few moments alone with his brother.

He was quietly proud of what he had been able to do for Dean, especially considering his lack of medical knowledge but worry still niggled at him. Human bodies were weak, fragile even, and they healed so very slowly. 

Dean wasn’t out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Adam continue to care for Dean and they discover they were not the only ones to survive the attack

Sam and Adam spent the rest of the day watching over Dean. They continued to re-soak the towels around his arm but the burn just seemed to get worse, with huge, yellow blisters beginning to rise all over the crusty, reddened skin. 

Dean stirred several times under their ministrations but didn’t wake again until after nightfall.

Adam had fallen into an exhausted sleep next to his brother and Sam sat to his other side, watching them both as they slept and wondering for the hundredth time why he was doing this. 

He ran a hand tiredly through his hair and over his face and when he looked back at Dean, he realised the man’s eyes were now open and staring blearily up at him.

“Hi,” Sam said, for lack of anything better to say.

Dean just scowled, turning his head slightly to see Adam sleeping soundly at his side, and then back to Sam again. He opened his mouth to say something but all that came out was a rasping croak. 

“Hold on,” Sam said, grabbing one of the bottles of water Adam had taken from the fridge a few hours earlier. He pressed the bottle of water to the man’s lips and Dean lifted his head slightly to take a couple of sips before lying back down. 

“Thanks,” Dean breathed. He stared hard at Sam. “You’re that vampire. The one that I fought. ”

“I am.”

“Adam said…you were on our side.”

“He did.”

“Are you?”

Sam considered for a moment. “I’m on my side.” He decided.

Dean’s scowl deepened. “Then why are you helping us?”

Sam scoffed and ran a hand through his hair again in agitation. “Honestly? I’m not sure. All I know is that you had the chance to kill me the other day and you didn’t. I guess I felt I needed to return the gesture.”

“Huh, who’d have thought saving a fang would actually work out in my favour.”

It was Sam’s turn to scowl. Being called ‘fang’ was really starting to grate on him. “It’s just until you are well enough to travel. You’re on your own after that.”  
Dean nodded. “Sounds fair. So what’s your verdict, doctor, am I gonna’ live?”

“Yeah, you’re going to live. Your arm is pretty badly burned but you don’t seem concussed anymore. That’s a good sign.”

“Can I see it? My arm?”

“Sure. I need to soak the towels again anyway. Hold still.” Sam reached towards him and Dean immediately flinched back, recoiling away from Sam’s outstretched hands. 

Sam froze. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Right,” Dean grunted. “Force of habit.” 

Sam reached out again, slowly this time, and began to gently unwrap the hunter’s arm. 

When the damage was uncovered, Dean hissed through his teeth. 

“There wasn’t a whole lot I could do for it. I’m sorry.” 

Dean let out a hard, humourless laugh and his eyes were suddenly angry. “You’re sorry? You realise that you and your merry band of bloodsuckers just decimated an entire town, right? You don’t give a damn about the people you killed. Good people, by the way. But you’re sorry about my arm?”

Irritation flared within Sam. He was too tired and in too much pain to deal with this right now. He stood up in one fast, fluid motion, causing Dean to flinch again and Sam smirked darkly, before stalking out of the room to soak the bandages and get some much needed air. 

When he reached the bathroom, he flipped on the light, flung the towels into the bathtub and turned on the taps.

“I hate hunters,” he growled to himself as he stomped towards the window. He hadn’t looked outside since the attack and the difference in the town was devastating. 

The town had been more or less destroyed. Very few buildings had been left standing, most having been burned to the ground. Corpses littered the streets and the roads ran red in the soft rain that had begun to fall. 

Feeling disgusted and more than a little guilty, Sam started to turn away when a flash of movement caught his eye. He stared hard at the area he had seen movement and his breath caught in his throat. There were people out there. Live people.

Sam watched in growing horror as a several dark figures crept through the rubble, moving ever closer towards the tavern. 

Sam cursed. They must have seen the light turn on and come to investigate. 

It was too dark to see if the figures were human or vampire but either would be bad news for him right now. 

If they were vampires and they found out he was helping a hunter they would execute him. If they were human, they would want him dead on principle. 

He raced back to the room where the two young humans rested, flinging open the door and grabbing his sword from the corner of the room.

“Wake up!” he called loudly and both Dean and Adam started, looking up in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Adam yawned.

“There are people outside.”

That got their attention. 

“Our people?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know whose people they are.” Sam snapped. “Adam, I need you to try and block the door. Use the other mattress or something. Your brother’s knife is over there. If anyone comes in, use it.”

“Where are you going?” Adam asked, face ashen.

“I’m going to go see who our visitors are.”

“Don’t kill them,” Dean said suddenly. It sounded suspiciously like an order. “If they’re human, don’t kill them.” 

Sam nodded briefly but wasn’t going to hold himself to it. If the visitors were in fact human then he would try his best to avoid confrontation. Mostly because that would mean he could just palm the injured hunter off on them and get back home, back to normalcy, but if they tried to kill him, he wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself. 

As he made his way downstairs, he heard the front door go and someone step inside. Sam stilled and listened. 

He could hear the heartbeats of three men in the bar room, could hear their breathing, and the harsh scent of stale sweat and old blood assaulted his nose. They were human alright. 

Good, Sam thought, now all he had to do was get out of here unseen. He began to tread backwards, intent on getting back up the stairs and jumping out of a window but as he did, one of the stairs creaked under his weight.

“You hear that?” a voice whispered.

Sam completely dismissed the idea of being quiet as all three men bolted for the stairs. 

He turned quickly and made a break for the bathroom, the window in there being plenty big enough for him to fit through, but he barely had his hand on the door handle when a gun shot rang out and Sam felt a bullet tear through his leg, right above his kneecap. 

It felt a lot like it did when somebody kicked him in the back of knee, forcing his leg to fold and he gasped as his leg buckled beneath him.

Someone kicked the sword out of his grip whilst a pair of hands grabbed him by the back of the coat and pinned him up against the wall. 

Sam couldn’t move his arms but the man who had him made the mistake of standing too close in order to subdue him. Without a second’s thought, he threw his head forward, crashing it against the man’s nose, which crunched under the impact.

The man howled and instantly let go, throwing his hands over his nose, which was now gushing blood.

The other two men converged on him before he could run again, pressing him against the wall so hard the burns on his back started to feel as bad as they had that morning. 

“Well, you sure are a fighter, huh?” The older of the men growled. 

Sam just snarled in response, struggling to get free. 

“Kubrick, tie the fang up already, would you?” 

The man, whose nose he’d broken, stepped forward and pulled a length of cord from his coat as the other two men managed to turn Sam around and position his hands behind his back. 

They tied his wrists together tight and then two of the men began to search through the rooms, leaving Kubrick behind with Sam. 

“Any of your friends up here with you?” the hunter hissed in his ear.

Sam didn’t reply, too preoccupied with breathing through the pain. This new position wasn’t doing anything for his burns.

When the other men reached the room with Dean and Adam, it took them longer to push open. Adam really must have tried to barricade it shut. But eventually they managed to get in. 

“Winchester!” The younger of the men exclaimed almost immediately. 

“Walt? Gordon?” came Dean’s muffled reply. 

“Kubrick, get your ass in here. It’s the Winchester boys.” The older man called.

Kubrick muttered something unintelligible under his breath and then made his way over to the room, keeping a firm, bruising grip on Sam’s arm.

Both Dean and Adam’s eyes widened when they saw Sam but they didn’t say anything. 

“How are you even alive, boys? We were sure we were the only ones to get away,” the older man asked.

“I hid in the wardrobe.” Adam provided. “The vamps didn’t find me.”

Sam only just managed to stop himself from laughing. He knew that there had been someone in that wardrobe!

“I actually have the fang over there to thank.” Dean said, surprising Sam and the other hunters. “He’s the one who treated my injuries.”

“That a fact?” the older man asked, glancing at Sam with dark eyes. “And why would you do that, I wonder?”

Sam just glared back, refusing to answer. He wasn’t sure if human’s had the same policy as vampires on sparing the life of an enemy and he had spent far too much time looking after Dean to land him in trouble now.

“I asked you a question, boy.”

Sam still didn’t reply and a fist suddenly slammed against his face. 

“Answer me!”

“Gordon, stop!” Dean barked. 

“He isn’t like the others.” Adam piped in. “This one’s nice.”

“Vampires aren’t nice, kid, not without a reason.” Kubrick said.

Gordon grabbed Sam’s face and forced him to look at him. “What was your reason, huh? Because I certainly don’t believe that you did it simply out of the kindness of your heart.” 

Sam wasn’t sure how Gordon expected him to talk when his jaw was being crushed so he gave the hunter the only response he could make and spat in his face.

Gordon roared and raised his hand to hit him again when another hand grabbed hold of the arm, stopping it mid-swing.

“I said stop.” Dean said.

Sam repressed the urge to tell him to lie back down. 

The young hunter looked terrible. His eyes were glazed and his face was frighteningly pale as he stared Gordon down.

“This fang saved my life. Let’s just let him go so we can get out of here.”

Gordon let go of Sam’s face and looked at Dean like he had just sprouted an extra head.

“Let him go? Are you out of your mind? The moment he gets back to his nest, he tells them we are alive and they come after us again.”

Sam decided it was time to finally speak up. “I wouldn’t tell them. If I did, they would only kill me for helping out a hunter.”

“Shut up,” Gordon snapped.

“See?” Dean pressed. “He won’t say anything.”

“No,” Gordon said, voice hardening. “He’s a vampire and we don’t let vampires go. I don’t care if he saved you. He attacked our town. He slaughtered innocent people. We either kill him or we take him with us. Since you care so much, I’ll let you decide.”

Dean’s gaze flickered to Sam, who kept his face as neutral as possible. 

He honestly wasn’t sure which option he preferred at that moment. He didn’t want to die but he was also certain that being kept alive under Gordon’s care was going to be unpleasant, to say the least.

After a long moment, Dean sighed. “We take him with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow, that's it for now but I'll be updating soon! =D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one’s been a long time coming! First of all, I’d like to apologise to all those I promised an update to weeks ago. In my defence, I was on holiday but I still should have gotten this chapter out sooner. Anyway, here it is. Hope you enjoy. =)

Sam was right. Living under the care of Gordon and his two sleazy minions was anything but pleasant. 

They decided to spend the rest of the night in the tavern and whilst Walt and Kubrick tended to Dean’s arm, slathering on some foul smelling gel and wrapping it in clean bandages, Gordon lashed Sam’s wrists to a pipe in the corner of the room. He seemed to take great delight in the action and tied the ropes a little tighter than was strictly necessary. He even gagged him which Sam felt was entirely uncalled for since he had barely uttered a word to them this whole time. 

Dean and Adam quickly fell asleep on the mattress whilst the other three hunters took shifts in watching their captive.

Sam tried to sleep but he was too highly strung and kept jerking back to wakefulness only a few moments after drifting off. 

So instead he feigned unconsciousness and observed his captors from underneath his eyelashes.

It was obvious that Gordon was the one in charge here. The way he barked orders and threw his weight around made that abundantly clear. He was a big man, broad and tall, with dark eyes that glared murder at Sam during his watch. 

Kubrick was the eldest of the hunters, maybe forty or so, and although it was obvious that he hated Sam, the look in his eyes didn’t seem half as lethal as his partner’s. Although that could have been due to the fact that both eyes were now so swollen they were barely slits thanks to the broken nose Sam had given him. 

Walt was deemed the least dangerous of the group. He was young and eager to please the older, more experienced hunters and didn’t seem to do anything without their permission. Maybe one day he would prove to be a deadly hunter but that day was far into the future.

Morning came slowly but when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, the room gradually came to life as everyone woke up and put together a breakfast of bread, cheese and fruit. 

Sam looked on from his place by the pipe, trying to keep the hunger from his eyes as he watched them eat and drink their fill.

“What about him?” Adam asked suddenly, talking around a mouthful of apple and giving Sam an almost quizzical look, head cocked to the side.

“What about him?” Gordon replied in a bored tone. 

“Shouldn’t we give him something to eat?”

Kubrick guffawed loudly. “Are you offering, kid?”

Dean growled at him. No words. Just a growl of warning and Kubrick shrugged before gulping the rest of his water down. 

Adam had gone several shades pinker than was healthy. “I didn’t mean we give him blood. But we could give him bread or something so he doesn’t starve.”

“Vampires don’t need human food to survive, kid.” Walt explained.

“Oh,” Adam said. 

And that was the end of that discussion. No breakfast for Sam. He hadn’t really expected any different but it didn’t stop his stomach rumbling gently in protest.

A half hour later, the hunters had packed up everything they deemed necessary for their journey and were ready to head out. 

As Adam helped Dean up and ushered him down the stairs, Gordon untethered Sam but kept his wrists tied behind his back. 

“Can’t we just kill him already and be done with it?” Walt complained quietly.

Sam sent him a defiant glare and wished the gag would come off already so he could send some very choice words his way. 

“If only we could,” Gordon snorted. “But our fearless leader wants him alive so what can we do?”

Kubrick scoffed. “He’s no higher on the chain of command than you are. He wouldn’t really be able to do anything if you decided to off the ugly brute.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose so high, they almost hit his hairline. Well, that was a little harsh.

“Maybe,” conceded Gordon as he pushed Sam, non-too gently through the door. “But his father could.” 

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................

It was too early for Dean to be travelling. Sam had known that from the start but he’d come to the conclusion that humans must be stupid because they hadn’t seemed to see the problem. 

They didn’t at first anyway. They might have had an inkling that there was something wrong several hours into the trip, when Dean came to a sudden stop in the middle of a vast, green field, curling in on himself and dragging in deep, ragged breaths.

“You doing okay there, Winchester?” Walt asked, looking a little concerned. 

Dean waved him away. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Just….just give me a minute.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. He didn’t need a minute. He needed a week of bedrest, some powerful pain medication and the care of a very good doctor. 

“I guess we can take a break here. We’ve made good progress so far.” Gordon stated and the relief on Dean’s face was obvious. He slumped to the ground instantly, needing no further encouragement.

The others began to settle down but before Sam had the chance to carefully lower himself, Gordon shoved him hard in the back, sending him sprawling, face first into a patch of prickly weeds. 

He hissed as pain flared across his shoulders. The burn still hadn’t healed completely. Oh, how he hated his human side right now.

“Hey!” Dean barked, his voice not holding half the power it should. “There’s no need to treat him rough.”

“I can think of a few reasons.” Kubrick grumbled from where he lay prone on the floor.

“He’s already injured,” Adam stated. “There’s no need to hurt him even more.”

“Injured? You mean the bullet hole I put in his leg?” Walt asked. “That’ll be long gone by now.”

Actually it wasn’t. It was still most definitely there but it had stopped bleeding sometime during the night. 

“No, I meant from the explosion. He was hurt then.” Adam replied. 

Sam wished the kid would just shut up already. He did not need attention being drawn to his injuries when he was supposed to have super-fast healing abilities.  
“You seem to care a lot about the fang, boy.” Gordon growled.

Adam faltered, “Well, yeah…I mean, he did save Dean so…”

Gordon sighed the sigh of a very put upon man. “Alright, you know what? Lesson time. Vampire lore 101.” And with that, he grabbed hold of Sam, hauled him up roughly and proceeded to untie his bonds.

“What are you..?” Dean began, eyes widening.

“Listen up, Adam.” Gordon snapped as he clumsily struggled to pull off Sam’s coat as the vampire writhed is his grip. “First thing you need to know is that a vampire’s body ain’t like ours. You injure him, without the aid of dead man’s blood, and he’ll heal right up within minutes.” 

The coat was thrown carelessly to the floor and then there was an almighty rip as Gordon tore the shirt underneath clean off. Sam’s clothes had been in tatters already but they were all but unsalvageable now.

Gordon sucked in a breath when he saw the state Sam’s back was in. “Well I’ll be damned. The kid was right. He’s still hurt.” 

Kubrick came up beside him. “Maybe he needs blood to heal?” he suggested.

“No,” Gordon said, voice low. “Even without feeding, vamps should heal faster than this.” 

Sam didn’t wait for the conversation to progress into even more dangerous waters. He couldn’t. This was the one thing he had always kept a secret. The one thing he could never let anyone know; the fact that he was different.

He took a deep, steadying breath to prepare himself and then turned sharply, jerking his arms out of a surprised Gordon’s hold and bringing his hands smashing down on either side of the hunter’s head as hard as he could. 

Gordon roared in pain and fell to the floor. 

Before anyone else could react, Sam hooked his leg behind Kubrick’s and pushed so that he landed on top of his fallen friend, and then he ran, whipping off his gag as he went. 

Thinking back, running probably wasn’t the smartest move he’d ever made. They were surrounded on all sides by miles of field and meadow. Just a vast expanse of flat land with not a single tree or even a bush in sight. Where did he think he was going to go? 

The hunters shouted after him and gave chase. Sam didn’t turn to see how close they were. He just ran, panic fuelling his every move until finally, inevitably, the hunters caught him again.

He gasped when the bulk of a hunter smashed into him and sent him sprawling to the ground for a second time that day.

“You must have a death wish or something, fang.” Walt growled into his ear as he wrestled his arms behind his back to tie once more. 

Sam snarled and bucked under him, trying to dislodge the heavy hunter.

“Stop,” a voice said calmly as the sharp sting of a blade touched Sam’s throat, stilling him instantly. “Just stop.”

Sam glared up at Dean, who at least was feeling well enough to be running after captive vampires again.

Dean crouched down, keeping the blade on him but not breaking the skin. “Look, I’m sorry things have worked out this way but we can’t let you go. And you can’t keep trying to escape. You’re gonna’ get yourself hurt.”

Having nothing to reply with, Sam just continued to glare and Dean who had the gall to actually look slightly guilty.

Once he was securely tied, Walt heaved him to his feet again as Gordon, Kubrick and Adam caught up. 

Gordon stepped up to Sam, drawing himself up to full height like he was trying use his build to intimidate even though he was a good deal shorter, then without uttering a single word, he balled up a fist and punched it into Sam’s stomach.

Sam curled a little but refused to give the hunter more than that.

Adam and Dean both looked ready to protest again but Gordon was done and just readjusted his rucksack before stalking away. 

Silently, everyone else followed.

Sam never did get his coat back.

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................

By mid-afternoon, it wasn’t only Dean who was struggling but Sam as well.

The Sun was beating down hard and he no longer had anything to protect him from the rays. 

The skin on his face, back and chest was reddening fast and his eyes stung in the surrounding light. 

Sam found Gordon and Kubrick smirking at him a few times as though his pain was something they found highly amusing. 

Walt may have done as well but he always kept himself right behind the vampire just in case he tried to run again. 

“Doing all right there, fang?” Dean asked quietly from his side.

Sam glanced at him, taking in his paling complexion and sweat drenched hair. “Are you?” he replied simply.

Dean grunted as if to say ‘Touché’. “I never did get your name,” he spoke again after a moment’s silence.

“I never gave it.”

“So what is it?”

Sam sighed.

“You can’t seriously want me to keep calling you fang?” 

No, he really didn’t. That was a nickname he could quite happily drop.

“It’s Sam,” he finally said.

Dean looked thoughtful for a second. “Oh yeah, I remember now. That other vampire, that dark haired one back at the Inn, he called you that right before he…”

“Blew us up?” Sam suggested, thinking back to the moment Luther had burst into the room and winked at him before throwing the grenade with a ‘Sorry, Sammy.’

Dean breathed out a chuckle. “Yeah, that. Friend of yours?”

Sammy couldn’t help a short laugh of his own. “Not even close.”

“Oi!” Kubrick shouted over. “Do we need to stick a gag on you again?”

Sam shook his head.

“Then shut up.”

Sam did.

“Sorry,” Dean breathed.

Sam nodded his understanding and winced. He couldn’t help it. The pain in his eyes was getting worse and had spread so that his whole head felt like it was going to implode.  
He shut his eyes against the glare of the sun and wished for rain.

Dean caught on immediately. “Your eyes hurt?” 

Sam nodded minutely. He heard Dean rummage around in the bag he was holding before something brushed against his face. He flinched.

“It’s just me,” Dean assured him. “Hold still.” 

Something soft was tied over his eyes, blocking out the sun completely.

“One of Adam’s spare shirts,” Dean said by way of explanation. “I’m sure he won’t mind. That any better?”

Sam could only nod for a third time. There was no way he was going to admit that the blessed relief the darkness provided was enough to make him want to cry. No, that wasn’t going to happen at all. 

“I can take him from here.” Dean said and Sam felt Walt’s presence behind him slink away before the young hunter took hold of his arm to help guide him the rest of the way.


	8. Chapter 8

"We should have reached the road by now." Sam heard Walt grumble much later on. "So where is it?"

That was something the captive half-vampire would also like to know. From snippets of conversations he had managed to catch earlier, the road was where they were going to make camp. And making camp meant getting sleep. Something Sam was pretty sure he'd have no problem with this time around. He was exhausted.

They'd been walking for hours now, taking small breaks along the way for food and rest, none of which Sam got any of, and though he still wore the shirt blindfold he was pretty sure it must be nearing nightfall.

"Quit your whining, boy, we're almost there. The road's just over this hill." Kubrick grouched back.

"Hear that, Dean?" Adam said somewhere on Sam's left. "Not long now."

"Yeah, I heard." Dean panted from behind.

After trekking up what felt more like a mountain than a hill, they finally came to a stop.

"There it is," Walt sighed. "About time too."

"Boy, your still whinging," said Kubrick. "Why don't you make yourself useful for once and get us some wood for a fire."

Walt made a small sound of protest that was quickly drowned out by Gordon.

"Excellent idea. Off you go, Walt. Kubrick, help me set up for dinner. Adam, sit your brother down before he passes out, would you?"

Adam complied quickly and afterwards took Sam by the arm and sat him down by a tree, tying him to it using a length of cord.

"Sorry," Adam muttered. "I have to."

Sam just nodded tiredly and listened to what was going on around him. He heard the rustling of bushes as Walt collected firewood, the clatter of pans being taken out of packs and the muttering of the other hunters as they argued about who would be taking first shift as lookout.

He was asleep before they could make up their minds.

It felt like only minutes later that he awoke but he knew instinctively that it must have been a lot longer than that.

The air was beginning to get a little cooler now, the residual warmth left by the day's scorching sun slowly fading away. The sound of soft snores and chirping crickets filled his ears and it would have been enough to lull him back to sleep if it weren't for the fact that his backside had gone completely numb.

He shifted slightly and tried and get into a more comfortable position but all it did was send a painful wave of pins and needles down his right leg.

"Are you awake?" Adam's voice whispered suddenly. Sam wasn't sure if the boy was talking to him but after a moment's hesitation, he whispers back.

"Yes,"

Suddenly there are nimble fingers clutching at his blindfold and he flinched violently, smacking his head against the trunk of the tree.

"Sorry," Adam said. "I just wanted to take off your blindfold. Is that okay?"

Sam had no idea why the young Winchester wanted to do that but in all truthfulness, his eyes did feel a lot better and the headache had long since disappeared so he nodded his assent.

The blindfold was slipped off and he blinked owlishly up at Adam, who looked back at him and said grimly, "Dude, you're a mess."

"Thanks,"

"No, really, your face is all kinds of messed up ri - "

"No, really, thanks," Sam cut in again, not wanting to hear the particular details of his appearance after hours of sun exposure. He refused to look down at himself, telling himself that it didn't matter anyway. He'd heal eventually.

Instead, he glanced around at the campsite. A small fire was still burning at the heart of it and the hunters, cocooned in their sleeping bags, slumbered close by the embers but not so closely that they risked rolling over into it.

"I guess it's your turn to make sure I don't miraculously escape by bonds and eat you all in your sleep?" Sam asked, barely stifling a yawn.

Adam scowled. "No, we're pretty sure you're not going anywhere. But there are other things out there. Like bears and wolves and things like that.

"Right," Sam grunted, quickly losing interest in the conversation as he felt the pangs of hunger eat away at his stomach again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten properly. It was sometime before he and the other vampires had first set off out of the city so it must have been around four days now. Sure, he'd had the occasional swig of blood whilst travelling with the others in the army but he didn't consider that real food.

As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly and no amount of curling up would quieten it.

Adam's eyes widened. "You must be really hungry."

Sam considered denying it for a second but knew there was no point so just remained silent.

Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, brightly coloured block. "Here," he said. "It's a granola bar. I know you don't really eat human food but it's got to be better than nothing, right?" He proceeded to unwrap it and then tentatively extended it towards Sam's lips, as though worried the vampire might snap is head forward and bite him instead of the offered food.

Sam took a small, cautious bite. He'd never had a granola bar before. His diet back home had consisted of mostly fruit, nuts and vegetables. Occasionally he was able to have some rabbit meat or bread but both he and his Mom were always too worried that others would smell it cooking to have it all that often.

It was hard and chewy but as the unrecognisably sweet flavour rolled over his tongue, it took all he had in him not to moan aloud.

The bar was gone within seconds and Adam chuckled quietly. "Yeah, I like them too."

With a contented sigh, Sam leaned back against the tree and looked beyond the camp. They were at the very top of a tall hill and from his vantage point, he could see about him for miles. Or at least, he would have been able to if it were day. In the dark, he could only see as far as the moon and stars permitted. Everything beyond that was just black shadow.

He and Adam sat in companionable silence after that and he began to feel himself drift to sleep again but before his eyes shut completely, a light caught his attention and he snapped back to alertness.

"Adam," he started.

"I see it too." Adam stood quickly as the one small light became several and they sped in their direction alarmingly fast. "Guys," he called. "Guys, wake up. We got company."

The hunters were awake and up almost immediately, scrambling out of their sleeping bags and rushing towards Adam so they could see what the problem was.

Gordon swore.

"One of ours?" Kubrick asked.

"I can't tell. It's too dark to make out."

There was a tense silence for a few moments and Sam watched in fascination as the lights came closer and a distant rumbling sound reached his ears.

Dean suddenly gasped. "I'd recognise that beautiful purr anywhere. That's my baby."

"The impala?" Adam asked, excitedly.

"How many other babies do I have exactly?" Dean responded, sarcasm lacing his voice.

"Finally, things are looking up." Gordon sighed and both he and Kubrick raced down the hill to head off the lights.

Sam couldn't stay quiet any longer. "Are they cars?"

Adam laughed. "Of course they are. What else would they be?"

"I've never seen one before." Sam confessed.

Now that wasn't completely true. Once, at the age of twelve, he and Benny had snuck out of the city and come across the shell of an abandoned car next to a river but it had been more of a rusty carcass than anything else. He'd never seen an actual car in motion before. Whilst the world had managed to hold onto running water and working electric, fuel for cars was pretty much non-existent and using the roads for anything but walking on was a thing of the past. At least that was what Sam had believed.

"What?" Adam squawked, completely appalled. "You've never seen a car?"

Dean just grinned and crouched down to untie Sam. "Oh man, then are you in for a treat. The impala is a thing of beauty. Come on, let's get down there and you'll see."

It took a considerable amount of skill (and a helping hand from Dean) to make it to the foot of the hill when his hands were still tied behind his back but he managed it without injury and by the time they reached the road the cars har already stopped and Gordon was talking to someone through the open window of the car in front.

There were two cars in total but Sam knew immediately which one was Dean's beloved Impala. The leading car really was beautiful with its pitch black coat, silver rims and sleek curves in all the right places.

The car behind it looked more like a small pickup truck and it's mud spattered white coat was so badly chipped and rusted that it reminded Sam of the dead car shell he'd seen all those years ago.

"What did I tell you, huh? A thing of beauty." Dean said proudly.

Gordon moved away from the impala, his conversation apparently over and the door to the vehicle swung open.

The man who stepped out of it was quite possibly the most intimidating man Sam had ever laid eyes on. He was about as tall as Dean and well built, muscles flexing under his shirt as he stretched out. He had a hard face with lines that showed him to be somewhere in his late forties and dark, fathomless eyes. Sam knew immediately that he must have been some kind of leader.

"Dad!" Adam exclaimed and rushed forward to embrace the man who returned the gesture just as enthusiastically.

"Are you okay, son?" the man asked, voice gruff.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He turned to Dean, eyeing his bandaged arm with some concern. "And you?"

Dean just smiled and shrugged. "I'm good."

The man nodded and turned his eyes on Sam, who had to try really hard not to shrink under the heavy gaze. "And you're the vampire." The man strode forward and before Sam had the chance to back away the man grabbed hold of his throat and squeezed.

It wasn't tight enough to completely cut off his air supply but he still choked a little and felt blood pool in his head as it was unable to travel further through the veins that were momentarily cut off.

"Dad, no," Dean exclaimed.

"Why not?" The man thundered. "Dean, why haven't you killed the fang already?"

There was that name again.

"You've not had any problems with killing in the past. Why now? He's a monster, pure and simple. And from what Gordon's told me, he had a hand in what happened back in the village."

Dean held up his hands in a placating manner. "Maybe he did but he also helped me and Adam out. If it weren't for him I'd probably be dead right now. Or at least a lot worse off. He saved me, Dad. We can't kill him."

The hand released Sam and he gasped in a breath of sweet, cold air.

"You saved my son?" the man asked.

"Yes, Sir," Sam's not sure where the 'sir' came from. It just sort of slipped out.

"Why?"

"I…" Sam shot a glance at Dean. "I don't really know, Sir. It just felt like the right thing to do."

Sam hoped the answer was enough.

The man just rolled his eyes like Sam had just attempted the corniest pickup line in the history of the world. "Fine. We'll take him with us. Maybe he'll prove useful." The way he ground it out between clenched teeth made it sound like the words were painful for him to speak.

Dean let out a sigh of relief.

"But he isn't riding up front with us. He goes in the trunk."

Sam disn't know what a trunk was but it didn't sound comfortable.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it’s been so long. I especially apologise to those I promised an update to like a month ago. I’m a terrible person, I know. But yeah, I finally got this chapter finished. Yay. Hope you enjoy. =)

Sam hated cars.

He had decided this about five minutes into the journey when he was yet again jostled about so hard that he managed to simultaneously bash his knees, shoulders and head against the walls of this ‘trunk’ he was confined in.

It turned out that the trunk was just a small storage area that cars had at the back and just like he had predicted, they were not at all comfortable.

This one stank of oil and dust and from the moment the trunk door had shut, obnoxiously loud rock music assaulted his ears. Even without all the jostling, Sam was sure he would still have developed a headache from the noise alone. 

The only thing he did appreciate about the car journey was the darkness that engulfed him. His eyes may have healed sufficiently so as to not hurt him anymore but he had seen enough sunlight to last him a good long while, thank you very much. His heated, blistered skin could attest to that.

Now, many hours into the journey, all Sam could do was lay there quietly, try his best to block out the music, ignore the ridiculously large number of bumps in the road and take some small amount of solace in plotting a revenge he knew would never happen.

He hissed out a curse when the car jerked yet again. He was sure this must be deliberate. No road could truly have so many pot holes.

But it wasn’t a pot hole this time.

The car began to slow and then came to a complete stop, the music turning off along with the engine and Sam couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. Sweet silence.

The relief was short-lived though as he suddenly realised that the car stopping probably meant that they had arrived at their destination. Where that destination was, he had no idea and that was unnerving in itself. All his life he had never really travelled more than a few miles outside of the City. He knew the City and he knew its people. And though he had had to hide his true self around the other vampires, the City was where he felt safe. 

With baited breath, he waited. Heard the slam of car doors and the crunch of gravel underfoot as two sets of heavy footsteps made their way towards him. 

The trunk door was thrown open and sunlight flooded in, momentarily blinding him after being in the dark for so long.

Without waiting for him to recover, two pairs of hands reached in and roughly pulled him out and deposited him onto the ground.

Sam tried to land on his feet but his right leg had fallen asleep during the journey and the sudden movement disorientated him to the point where a graceful landing was impossible. 

Instead he landed on his ass. Hard. And would have toppled over onto his back if Gordon hadn’t stood right behind him.

The other set of hands belonged to the eldest Winchester, who grunted irritably and grabbed Sam again, hauling him to his feet.

Finally, Sam’s eyes began to adjust to the light and he tried to get his bearings. 

What he saw did nothing to ease his nerves. They were parked on a huge expanse of tarmac and gravel, next to the pickup truck that Kubrick and Walt were climbing out of, along with a tall, gangly man that Sam hadn’t yet met.

They were surrounded by metal mesh fences that stood about ten metres high and were topped with dangerously sharp barbed wire.

Behind one of the fences stood a large, grey building with several high towers, not too dissimilar to the ones Sam used to man. 

Unlike the village he and the other vampires had invaded, the humans had set up a protection around this place and although it was nowhere near as secure as the City, Sam couldn’t help but be slightly impressed by the formidable looking building.

However it wasn’t the building or the towers or the fences that had him worried. It was the mass of people waiting on the other side of the fence, all of them silent and staring. He didn’t even need his vampire senses to feel the tension in the air or taste the hatred seeping out of their pores. 

“Welcome to Darkwater Prison,” Dean breathed, stepping up beside Sam and grasping his arm in a much gentler hold than his father. “Or as we prefer to call it now; home sweet home.”

“You live here?” Sam whispered back.

“Sure do,” Adam replied in his brother's stead, suddenly appearing on his other side. “The wake-up call sucks and the AC is non-existent but it’s as good a place as any, I suppose.”

“Enough talk,” The eldest Winchester barked. “Let’s go.”

They made their way towards the fence and Sam had to try really hard not to cringe when he was close enough to see the open rage upon the humans’ faces. 

There was no doubt in Sam’s mind. They knew what he was. What he had done. And they wanted justice.

As they approached the gate, it slid open with a loud buzz and a grizzled looking man wearing a plaid shirt and battered looking cap stepped out to greet them.

“John,” he nodded at Dean’s father and Sam finally had a name to put to the face.

“Bobby,” John nodded back, face dark and serious. “How is Jo holding up?”

Jo? Sam knew that name. The blonde hunter Benny had shot had been called Jo. He wondered if it was the same one. Probably not. The wound was pretty serious. She most likely bled out long before they made it back to civilization. Besides, there must have been plenty of people with that name.

“She’s hanging in there. It was touch and go for a while but the doc says with some time she should make a full recovery. Ellen’s a wreck though.”

Well how about that? Sam thought in surprise, switching from being unsure to confident that John and Bobby were actually talking about the same two women he had encountered a while back.

“That’s understandable.” John sighed.

Bobby nodded again before turning to look at Sam. Unlike the other gazes, there was no deep set hatred in his expression. Instead he just fixed him with a cold, dispassionate stare.

“I see you brought in another one.”

“Yeah, well, I thought the other would get lonely all by himself.”

Sam tensed and looked from John to Bobby to John again, as though he’d be able to find out what he needed from their faces alone. They had another vampire with them?

His mouth opened without permission, the question already on his tongue but before he could utter a sound, Dean’s grip tightened, warning him to keep quiet. 

Figuring it was probably smart to listen to the silent command, he snapped his mouth back shut.

“You reckon he’ll actually talk? ‘Cause the other one hasn’t said a word so far.” Bobby went on to ask.

“They’ll both talk eventually.” John replied stonily. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Cold dread slowly settled in Sam’s stomach as the two older men spoke. The threat obvious behind the innocuous words. He already knew these people weren’t against using violence. Gordon’s rough treatment of him so far was proof enough of that and Luther had told him of his torture, of Kate and Lenore’s death, all at the hands of humans. He just hadn’t let himself linger on those thoughts before, preferring to think of only the present situation. 

But it seemed torture may well be his present situation soon enough.

Dean’s hand had tightened to the point where it was painful. If it weren’t for Sam’s part-vampire blood, there would definitely be some finger shaped bruises forming under the already sun brittle skin.

“Dad,” Dean ground out, “We should probably get him inside now, before he’s burned to a complete crisp.”

John glanced up at the hot, mid-day sun and then at Sam and Dean. “I guess you’re right. Can’t have him die on us just yet.” He clicked his fingers at the unknown, gangly man. “Garth, take our prisoner to the cells and get him situated. Report back to me when you’re done.”

Garth nodded and stepped forward to replace Dean’s hold but the younger hunter didn’t move.

“I can take him.” Dean insisted.

“No you can’t.” John said. “You’re going straight to the infirmary. You say your arm is fine but I want it looked at.”

“But - ”

“Dean!” John barked and Dean reluctantly let go of Sam with a muttered “Yes, Sir.”

Garth took Sam’s arm and pulled him forward. “Let’s go.” He said softly.

Sam matched his pace and the crowd before them parted as they passed. They were no longer silent. Some whispered, some murmured, some outright jeered at him but Sam kept his gaze firmly on the ground, refusing to look any of them in the eye and just make things worse. 

Something warm and slimy hit his face, just below his eye, and he realised with a disgusted jolt, that someone had just spit at him.

“That’s enough of that, now.” Garth called out, annoyance lacing his voice. “Let us through.” 

They managed the rest of the walk without incident and when they reached the already open door, Garth hastily pushed Sam though and shut it quickly behind them.   
They were it a brightly lit hallway with cream walls and green carpeting. A couple of colourful pictures hung on the far wall and to one side was a large, wooden desk, behind which a young woman with bright red hair sat, flicking through a wad of papers with a look of outright boredom on her face. 

As they approached, the woman glanced up and broke out in a huge smile that lit up her whole face. 

“Garth, I’m so glad you’re back,” she breathed. “This place sucks without you. I’m not even joking.”

Garth chuckled. “Hi Charlie, It’s good to be back.”

Charlie smiled again and turned her hazel gaze to Sam and whistled. “Now you have spent far too much time out in the sun. Next time you should probably wear sun screen…and a shirt.” She clapped her hands over her mouth in sudden horror. “Ohmygosh! You’re from the village aren’t you? I’m so sorry. Like you had time to grab a shirt when you were being attacked - ”

“Charlie,” Garth interrupted her tirade. “He’s not a villager. He’s a Vamp. Gordon and his lot caught him just after the attack.”

Charlie paled at his words. “Oh….well you know where to put him then. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She turned back to rifling through the papers again in a clear dismissal and with a nod, Garth left the hallway through a set of double doors, dragging Sam along with him.

“So what’s your name?” Garth asked as they walked down a narrow, winding corridor.

“Sam,” The half-vampire replied, seeing no point in ignoring the question. He’d already told Dean anyway.

Garth glanced at him sideways, eyebrows raised in surprise. “I honestly didn’t expect you to answer. The other one didn’t”.

Sam shrugged. “It’s just a name.”

“In some cultures, people believe that knowing someone’s name gives you power over them.”

“I think that only applies to spirits and demons.” Sam replied, surprising Garth again.

“You know your lore.”

Another shrug. “My Mom liked to tell me bedtime stories when I was a kid. And most of them were based around some myth or other.” 

“My Mom used to do the same. Although hers were always about the hunts she’s been on.” He pulled a face. “I tell you I had more nightmares as a kid than was strictly healthy.”  
Sam smirked but made no further effort to continue the conversation. 

They reached a large locked door and Garth knocked on it five times in quick succession. There was a pause for a second before the sound of a lock being turned could be heard and the door swung open. 

The guard behind it did no more to acknowledge their presence than allow them to pass before locking the door back up.

“You’ll be staying down here.” Garth informed, already moving them towards a staircase that descended into gloom.

The stairs led to another corridor (this one much darker than the ones on the above floor) that stopped at a dead end and had a number of small barred cells on either side.   
Sam wrinkled his nose as the smell of blood, badly kept latrines and vomit hit him. Garth seemed to notice.

“I know. Stinks to high heaven. We have a hard time getting people to clean up down here.” 

Most cells were empty but as they passed by one of them, a body suddenly threw itself at the bars, growling and hissing. 

Sam jerked away instinctively and stared at the occupant, taking his wild dark hair, bloody clothes and fiery eyes. 

“Luther?” he gaped. 

The vampire’s snarl tapered off and a leer took its place. “Sammy, you’re alive. I gotta say, I’m a little shocked. I really thought I got you back there.” He laughed briefly before doubling up coughing harshly. 

Sam frowned. That definitely wasn’t an apology. Luther didn’t seem to regret throwing the grenade at all.

Once the coughing subsided, Luther straightened back up, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. “But what does it matter right? It’s not like either of us are gonna be alive much longer anyway.” The leer dropped from his face, replaced by a serious glare. “Don’t tell ‘em anything, Sammy. Keep the City safe. Give these hunters hell.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* - Hey there everyone! So you must be tired of me apologising about the lateness of each chapter so I probably shouldn’t bother. Just know that in a few weeks it should get better because the exams will stop and I’ll finally have some free time. Happy day! Anyways, just a warning to the faint of heart. There will be torture in this chapter. Not a whole lot and probably not all that graphic because I’m a big softy but it will be there. You have been warned. =D

_“Oh, there was a young vampire named Sammy_  
Who joined the Day Guard Army  
I threw a grenade right at him  
And now he’s haunting me.” 

Sam resisted the urge to smash his head against the grimy brick wall he was leaning against. This must have been the sixth or seventh verse in the song saga about a ‘young vampire named Sammy’ that Luther had recently take to singing and the lyrics weren’t getting any more creative.

“Not haunting you, Luther. Still alive. No thanks to you.” Sam muttered.

“He speaks!” Luther gasped in delight, swivelling around with a triumphant grin. 

They had been placed in opposite cells and Sam was really beginning to wish the hunter had just put him in the far end one, where he at least stood a chance of ignoring his companion’s endless prattle. He found it hard to match this Luther up with the one that Bobby had described earlier. The one that refused to say a word. 

“I was beginning to think you’d gone and fallen asleep on me.” Luther continued.

“It’s not for lack of trying, I assure you.” Sam grumbled.

“Oh don’t be like that. We’re comrades in arms, you and I. Brothers. We might as well get along. After all, we are in this together.”

Sam scoffed. “Brothers? Together? You’ve got to be joking. You tried to blow me up back in the village, remember?”

“I remember,” Luther sighed, sinking down to sit cross-legged on the floor just behind the bars. “Would you believe me if I said it wasn't personal?”

Sam just scoffed again.

“No really. It wasn’t. I’m not at liberty to tell you exactly why I had to throw the grenade…but I can promise you it was a necessary evil. And hey, look, you’re still breathing, right? So no harm done.”

Not at liberty? Luther made it sound like it had been an order from on high instead of some haphazard, split-second decision made in the heat of battle. 

But, angry as he was, Sam knew that giving the other vampire the silent treatment wasn’t really going to help anything. They needed to think of a way to get out of there.  
“So how did they catch you?” he decided to ask instead.

Luther grimaced. “Remember skeletor? That stick of a hunter that brought you in? He got the drop on me just as I was coming out of the tavern. Punk stabbed me from behind and before I knew it, I was all nicely trussed up in the back of his truck.” A look of sudden wonder swept over his face. “He had a truck, Sammy. Can you believe that? An actual working truck. I didn’t think they existed anymore.”

Before Sam could answer, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard and in strode an angry looking John Winchester (Sam was beginning to think that was just his default face), followed swiftly by Bobby, Kubrick and Gordon, who was carrying a grubby wooden chair over his shoulder.

John stopped before Sam’s cell and glared at him before barking out, “Kubrick, get the other one out of here. I don’t want them together from now on."

Kubrick followed the command quickly, unlocking Luther’s cell and yanking the sitting vampire out by arms that were still tied behind his back.

Luther snapped his head forward with a snarl, trying to sink his teeth into Kubrick’s bony shoulder but his reach wasn’t far enough.

The hunter merely altered his grip so that the vampire was now in front of him. “Try that again and I’ll muzzle you,” He grumbled, pushing Luther through the doorway and out of sight. “Don’t think I won’t.”

The remaining three men didn’t take their eyes off Sam throughout the brief scuffle, their gaze cold and distant.

Without speaking a word, Bobby unlocked Sam’s cell and all three men stepped inside.

Sam in turn took a step back, the beginnings of fear taking root as he remembered John’s words from earlier; _“They’ll both talk eventually. I’ll make sure of that.”_

Gordon set the chair down in the centre of the room and the moment Sam’s gaze turned to watch him, John made his move, reaching forward to snag the young vampire by his shoulders, turn him and start untying the restraints.

Sam was barely given a moment to experience the feeling of blood rushing back to his cold hands before he was shoved down into the chair where his hands were yet again tied, this time to the arms of the seat. His ankles were also tied to the legs of the chair. The hunters obviously weren’t taking any chances with him.

John was the first one to break the silence. “My son says you saved his life, fang,” he said, voice like gravel. “And for that you have my gratitude. But it doesn’t change the fact that you are a vampire and our prisoner.”

He stopped talking and Sam wondered if he were meant to say something here. If he was, he wasn’t entirely sure what it was supposed be so he just continued to watch the hunters quietly.

John sighed and continued. “We have some questions and you are going to answer them. If you refuse to do so, we will be forced to use more…extreme measures. Measures that we’d rather not take.”

“What do you want to know?” Sam figured he should at least act like he was willing to cooperate. Maybe the questions wouldn’t actually be all that important.

The hunters glanced at each other in varying levels of surprise. Apparently cooperation was not what they had been expecting. Then Bobby spoke up. “We want to know about Ash Lindberg.”

Sam blinked, nonplussed. “Who?”

“Ash Lindberg,” Bobby repeated. “He was taken by your lot in a raid a few months back. Where is he?” 

Sam vaguely remembered Luther mentioning that the hunters who had captured him back near the City had asked him about someone called Ash but that was the only time he had heard the name. And that was fine by him, it just made the first question that much easier to answer. “I have no idea.” 

Gordon growled from his spot beside Bobby and without warning, drove a fist right into his solar plexus.

Sam wheezed and glared up at his least favourite hunter. “I’m serious. I don’t know. If he was taken in a raid, it was probably as food, and if that’s the case…” He wondered momentarily if it was a good idea to say the next bit but then decided he’d gone too far to just shut up now. “Well I’m sorry but humans don’t tend to last any longer than a month or two in our farms.”

“You’re saying he’s dead?” John asked.

“I’m saying it’s possible.” Sam stated matter-of-factly. “It’s also possible that he’s still alive. Like I just said. I have no idea where he is. I’ve never even heard of him before.” Not strictly true but close enough.

For a moment it looked like John might take a swing at him too but then the man just took a deep breath, calming himself down before speaking again.

“Fine then. If you can’t tell us anything useful about Ash then how about something else? Tell us about the City. About its defences and weaknesses, about its leaders and its forces.”

And that was as far as Sam could go. He might not agree with everything the vampires did but they were still his people and the City was still his home. It was where he grew up. Where his _mom_ lived and there was no way he was going to willingly reveal information that could possibly put her in harm’s way. 

He felt his mind immediately shut down at the request. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“I know you _won’t_ tell us that.” John replied, folding his arms and stepping away towards the entrance of the cell. “Not without a little persuasion.”

With a sigh, Sam sat back against the chair, resigning himself to whatever was going to happen next and willing his heart to remain calm.

Gordon looked positively delighted. This was obviously what he had been waiting for. What he’d been looking forward to. He pulled a flask out of his pocket and opened it.  
Sam tried to catch scent of what it was but could smell nothing over the stench of ammonia. 

“Sure you don’t want to tell us, fang?” He said with a smug little smile. He didn’t wait for a reply however, just threw the contents at Sam’s face.

Sam’s eyes instinctively closed the moment the liquid touched his skin and for a second, nothing happened. Then the pain hit.

An agonised gasp was ripped from his throat as he felt his already burned skin set ablaze. 

“Concentrated lemon juice, fang, feels good don’t it?”

Sam didn’t dare open his eyes to glare defiantly as he wished he could, for fear of the liquid getting in them. Instead he just kept his mouth obstinately shut and concentrated on breathing.

Gordon splashed liquid fire across his shoulders next. Then his back and then his chest but Sam was ready for it now and refused to give more than a soft hiss as the lemon juice ran in small rivulets down his body.

“I shall ask again.” John’s voice said, breaking his concentration. “Tell us about the City.”

Sam risked opening his eyes, squinting up at the hunter and letting his fangs descend as he snarled. “Go to hell.”

John rolled his eyes and Bobby shook his head, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the situation. 

Good, Sam thought, he should be uncomfortable. 

Gordon started on his fingers next; asking a question and then gleefully snapping a digit when the question went unanswered. 

When he reached the second hand, Sam was struggling to keep the screams in and was biting the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste blood.

Upon the last snap, his vision began to dim around the edges and he welcomed the darkness. Wished it would come swiftly and swallow him whole.

“Enough.” John finally said and much to Sam’s dismay it wasn’t only Gordon that backed off. The darkness did too.

John strode forward, grasped a handful of Sam’s hair and yanked his head back so that he was staring directly into the hunter’s eyes.

“Why do this to yourself?” the hunter asked softly, almost sounding as though he cared. Almost. “Just tell us what we want to know and the pain will stop.”  
A laugh bubbled up out of Sam’s throat before he could stop it. He didn’t even know why he was laughing. All he knew was that for some reason he found John’s words highly amusing.

“You mean you’ll kill me?” he chortled. Bloody spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke, almost hitting John in the face. 

John flinched back and released his grip upon Sam’s hair and this only made the vampire laugh harder. Tears of mirth squeezing out from under his eyelids.

A hard slap to the face stopped him cold. He blinked, stunned, cheek smarting from the blow, and then glanced back up at John who still had his hand raised, as though ready to strike again. 

“We’re leaving it here for today.” John said. “But we will be coming back tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and every day after that until you tell us what we want to know. Understand that the only way this ends is with you talking. How much you suffer between now and then is up to you.”

And with that, the hunters marched out of his cell, locked it behind them and left Sam alone with his thoughts.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*Trigger Warning*) – Hey guys! So the Eleventh Chapter is finally up. Yay! Just a quick warning that this chapter, like the last, will contain scenes of torture. Again nothing graphic but for all those that can't read stuff like that without feeling slightly green afterwards, you have been warned. Happy reading! =D

John was true to his word. They came for him every day. They questioned him, beat him, cut him, burned him. They did whatever they could in a ruthless effort to get him to break.

Sam used their visits to keep track of time at first, to count the days that he had been trapped in that awful, stinking cell but after a while, the visits began to blur together. Hunger, pain and fatigue had him passing out so often that he couldn't tell the difference between one day and the next.

During the first few sessions, Sam had fought back, tried to break out of his bonds, attempted to bite the hunters whenever they got too close and screamed out obscenities that would definitely have made Benny proud but as the days dragged by and his strength slowly ebbed away, so did his will to fight.

But he never broke. He never told the hunters a word of what they wanted to hear. Instead, he resigned himself to dying in that prison at the hands of his oppressors.

But dying was a much longer, drawn out experience than he could have imagined. He hadn't been given anything to eat or drink since stepping foot into enemy territory and though severely weakened, his body still clung onto whatever life was still left in there.

The day that death was supposed to take him began with Gordon.

"Wakey, wakey, fang. It's time for some more fun," the hunter called in a sing-song voice, rousingSam from another night's restless slumber.

Sam looked up from behind a curtain of lank, greasy hair and watched silently as Gordon stepped into his cell, smiling brightly as he dumped a duffel bag onto the floor.

He was alone. No Bobby and no John and for some reason that scared Sam more than the sight of three hunters ever did.

"It's just you and me today," Gordon said, as though picking up on Sam's thoughts. "Winchester's given up on you. You and the other one. He knows we ain't gonna get a thing out of you. You're not gonna squeal no matter what we do. So today, I get to play executioner. You're all mine now."

Sam wanted to respond. Something snarky like 'Bite me' would have been very fitting but he's so tired, and his throat was so dry that he's pretty sure any attempt to talk would just result in an unintelligible croak.

Gordon unzipped the bag and rummaged through it briefly before taking out a mean looking knife and a glass jar full of some sort of dark red liquid.

"Know what this is?" He asked, swirling the contents of the jar around. "I think you do."

Sam did, of course. He had learned enough about hunters and their methods by now to know that what was in that jar was dead man's blood. He was actually surprised they hadn't used it before now.

Gordon uncapped the jar and dipped his knife into it, making sure the blade is given a good coating before pulling it back out.

He made his way over to Sam and smirked. "This may sting a bit."

Sam braced himself but nothing, not one single part of his daily torture sessions could have prepared him for the pain he felt when the knife carved into his chest.

It felt like fire, like ice, like acid eating away at his skin and the muscle underneath. And with every slice, this acid, this poison spread until Sam felt as though he was being consumed.

For a time, Sam lost himself in the pain and he could not say how long it took to claw his way back to awareness. All he knew was that when he did, his whole body felt strangely heavy and his throat was so raw,he knew he must have been screaming.

Gordon was still stood over him, smug smile still plastered to his face as he watched his captive.

"Back with us?" he asked.

Sam just groaned in response.

"Good. I'd hate for you to miss this next part." He circled Sam, coming to a stop right behind him. "I've always been curious. Dead man's blood. It's practically poison for your kind, right?"

Even his dazed state, Sam didn't like where this was heading.

"And I know what it does to you when it mixes with your blood, if we cut you or inject you…but what does it do if it's ingested?"

Sam was ready when Gordon yanked back his head and pushed the jar to his lips. The cold, slimy liquid trickled harmlessly down his chin at first, unable to get past Sam's sealed lips as he thrashed uselessly in his chair.

There was a reason Vampires didn't drink dead man's blood. It wasn't practically poison. It was poison. If a vampire drank enough of it, and it only had to be a couple of mouthfuls, he would die and though Sam was only a half-blood, he didn't really fancy taking the risk.

It wasn't his choice in the end though as Gordon grabbed his chin and pried his jaw open whilst pressing the rim of the tipped jar against parting lips until the liquid was flowing freely into his mouth. He let it pool there, refusing to swallow but then Gordon pinched his nose, threw the almost empty jar to the floor and forced Sam's mouth closed once more.

It didn't take long after that. The need for oxygen was greater than his fear of the liquid and without conscious thought, he swallowed it down, gagging at the rotting taste. Gordon let go of his head immediately and Sam heaved in a breath of stale, rancid air.

His stomach gurgled ominously for a few moments and Gordon backed away, watching with morbid curiosity.

Then the cramping started. It was mild at first but escalated quickly into gut-wrenching stabs of sharp pain that made him want curl up and die. He tried to scream but his voice was gone and nothing but a wheeze of air managed to make it past his abused throat.

Then, abruptly, the pain was gone and a feeling of ice filled his stomach, rising quickly up his gullet and before Sam could acknowledge what was about to happen, he was throwing up.

Blood and bile burst from his mouth and without even the strength to turn his head, most of the mess ended up down his front and on his lap, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Gordon choked on a laugh from where he stood in the corner. "Well that was a little anti-climactic…and gross." He chortled as he picked up his knife again. "But I think we're done now. You're beginning to bore me. Bye Sammy."

Sam watched as the blade was raised and he felt the cold grasp of death clutch his heart.

He closed his eyes.

"WAIT!" a voice roared out from down the corridor and Sam's eyes popped back open. He knew that voice. "Gordon, Stop!"

Gordon did, but he didn't look happy about it.

"Dean," he ground out through gritted teeth. "I hope you have a good reason for interrupting me."

Dean came to halt in front of the cell. From the redness of his face and the way he was panting, Sam figured he must have been running pretty hard. Other than the odd colouring and his still bandaged arm, he looked pretty healthy. He was up and about at least.

"Change of plans." Dean said. "My Dad wants him alive. The other one too."

With a pained grimace, Gordon lowered the bloody knife. "Can I ask why? Barely an hour ago, he wanted them dead."

"Our guests just arrived and they wish to negotiate an allegiance but they want our prisoners kept alive for now."

"That's ridiculous!" Gordon snarled, turning to face Dean. "Why would they want these monsters alive?"

Dean shrugged. "Not a clue. Why don't you ask them?"

With a growl of frustration, Gordon stormed past Dean and out of sight.

The younger hunter watched him leave and then slowly turned to face Sam, his face transforming from a look of indifference to one of horror.

"What have they done to you?"

Sam looked away from those too-green eyes, hating the concern he saw in them. He didn't want or need that from a human.

He was well aware of what he must look like, sat tied to a chair, covered in blood and filth but he didn't want to talk about it. Or be stared at like some kind of caged animal for that matter.

Dean shuffled closer. "Sam?"

Sam glared at him. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so angry at the guy. He'd just saved him after all. For the time being at least.

He should have felt relieved, maybe a little grateful but nope; Sam was livid.

Dean flinched a little at the intensity of the vampire's gaze. "Are you oka – no, stupid question. Obviously you're not okay."

Obviously. Sam would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't trying so damn hard to look as intimidating as someone can when they're all tied up.

Dean strode further into the cell, until he stood right in front of Sam and crouched a little to look at him properly. "Look Sam, I didn't just come down here to give Gordon his new orders, I also came to warn you."

Sam's frown faltered and Dean took that as permission to go on. "The guests I mentioned. The ones that want to be our allies? They're…they're werewolves."

Sam choked a little. Werewolves? Really? He knew of their existence. of course. But he'd never actually met one. Never wanted to either. He'd been told that a single bite from one could end him for good.

Then again, he'd also been told that werewolves stuck to their own kind. Yet here they were, looking to ally themselves with a group of humans. Of hunters!

"Yeah, I know." Dean said. "I was shocked too when I was told but Dad seems to really want this. This wolf faction…it's led by the Novaks."

Sam had heard of the Novaks as well. They were practically royalty in the Were community. They were Alphas, every member of the family, and the pack they led was one of the biggest and most influential in the country.

"Apparently, the Novaks have some bad blood with Vamps. I mean, most do anyway but these guys especially. The moment they heard you and your friend were here…I don't know man, one of the princes just flipped. Wolfed out and tore up the meeting room. And the other one just got this look in his eye and told my Dad that if negotiations were going to go any further then you and that other Vamp had to be kept alive."

Sam was still waiting for the warning part of this conversation. The look he gave Dean must have said as much because the hunter sucked in a breath and finished. "Look, I don't know what they want with you exactly. I flew out of there to stop Gordon before I could hear the rest but i'll bet it's not so they can shower you in hugs and kisses."

"No," a new voice said. One that Sam had never heard before. "Hugs and kisses aren't really our style."

A man sauntered into view, flagged by a very nervous looking Bobby and Garth.

The man was fairly short with golden brown hair, glittering eyes and a sarcastic smile. "You must be one of the prisoners I've been hearing all about." He said. "Pleasure to make you acquaintance. My name is Gabriel, Second Prince of the Novak Pack."


	12. Chapter 12

Sam wasn’t exactly sure what he expected a werewolf prince to look like but it certainly wasn’t this. The guy in front of him looked more like a friendly grocer, dressed in black slacks and a green, button-up shirt, and still wearing that same, small grin.

But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and that put Sam on edge, even more so than he already was.

Gabriel walked into the cell and Dean backed away as the prince came to a stop in front of Sam and reached for the vampire’s face with both hands.  
Too weak to resist, Sam allowed the man to turn his head to either side before tilting it up so that their eyes met.

“You’re not the first vampire I have ever seen but you are the first I’ve ever gotten this close to.” Gabriel murmured thoughtfully. “You don’t seem half as scary as the last one I met but that was over ten years ago now. I was only a child at the time and things always seem scarier when you’re young, don’t they?”

Sam didn’t answer, pretty sure that the question was rhetorical, and instead posed a question of his own.

“What do you want with me?”

Gabriel let go of him and Sam was barely able to keep his head up on his own anymore.

“Me?” The prince gave an incredulous laugh. It was a cold sound, devoid of any humour and Sam could see the amicable mask that Gabriel wore begin to slip. “I don’t want anything to do with you. In fact, I’d be quite happy to let you rot down here. Or have you executed as you were supposed to have been. But my baby brother…he’s not as forgiving as I am.”

Bobby stepped in and began to undo Sam’s bonds as Gabriel explained.

“Twelve years ago, your kind attacked one of our carriages, killed those within it and stole their possessions. My parents were among those that were slaughtered.”

“That had nothing to do with me,” Sam growled as he was hoisted to his feet and held in a firm grasp. Was he seriously being blamed for something that happened when he was only six years old?

“But you made a mistake.” Gabriel continued, as though there had been no interruption. “In your haste to retreat, you didn’t check the cargo hold thoroughly enough and you left witnesses. Two Young boys who hid but saw everything. Boys who swore vengeance. They shall taste at least a little of that today.”

“But it wasn’t me,” Sam protested.

“It doesn’t matter!” Gabriel raged, all friendly pretences now done with. “You are a vampire. You may not be guilty of this particular crime but you are nevertheless guilty. You feed on human life and take the lives of innocents whenever it suits you. You are a monster. And you cannot be allowed to live.”

For a brief moment, Sam wondered how fair it was exactly for a werewolf to be freely tossing about the word ‘monster’ but then he was being pushed out of the cell on wobbly legs and it took all of his concentration just to put one foot in front of the other.

His heart raced painfully in his chest as he was marched up the stairs and through a maze of corridors that seemed to blur and sway around him. At some point, Garth led Gabriel through a different set of doors, leaving Sam alone with Bobby and Dean.

As they walked, part of Sam began to wish Gordon had just killed him when he had the chance. That way it would all be over and he wouldn’t have to worry about what werewolves did to their most hated enemies.

Dean objected throughout the entire journey. Much of what he said in the beginning was drowned out by the rushing sound in Sam’s ears but it was clear he was unhappy. When the sound finally receded, Dean was still arguing.

“This doesn’t have to happen right now. Maybe if I could just talk to Prince Castiel - ”

“Dean, just stop.” Bobby huffed. “This is happening whether you like it or not. I know you have a soft spot for this vamp but - ”

“This isn’t about that. Even if I hated guts, this isn’t right. If this was an execution then fine, I’d get it. I wouldn’t like it but I’d understand. But this? This is sick. We’re just gonna hand him over and let a werewolf tear into him when he doesn’t even have the strength to defend himself?”

“I’m not a huge fan of the idea myself, son, but we need this alliance.”

“There was a time, we used to hunt Weres too, remember? What’s changed?”

They came to an abrupt stop behind a plain, white door. “This is it.” Bobby said, finality lacing his every word.

“Bobby, please.”

“No, Dean.”

Dean finally fell silent and came to hold Sam’s Arm as Bobby unlocked to door. He leaned in close until warm breath ghosted across Sam’ ear. “I’m sorry, Sam, I wish we didn’t have to do this.”

With a click, the door opened and Sam was pushed through quickly before the door was slid shut again.

He found himself in a small room, even smaller than his cell with grey carpeting and walls so white, it hurt to look at them. There was another door directly opposite the one he had just come through, with a small, square window near the top.

He wasn’t alone in the room.

Luther stood in the opposite corner, leaning against the wall and looking about as bad as Sam felt.

He too had been rid of his shirt at some point, making it blatantly obvious that he had lost a dangerous amount of weight; his frame almost skeletal and face gaunt, with translucent skin stretching over bone in a way that looked painful. His chest was a mess of cuts and bruises that were struggling to heal and his nose was so swollen, it had to be broken.

He appraised Sam with a hollow gaze. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“You don’t look too hot yourself,” Sam quipped.

Luther snorted. “You didn’t talk?”

“No.”

“Good man.”

Sam leant against a wall of his own. “Do you know what they plan to do with us?”

“I can hazard a guess.” Luther replied tiredly.

“They’re giving us to a werewolf.”

“Oh,” Luther said, eyes widening a fraction. “I didn’t actually see that one coming. What did we do to warrant that kind of special treatment?”

“Nothing.” Sam shrugged. Trying to appear nonchalant about the whole situation but feeling more scared than he could remember ever being. “But vampires killed his parents and now he wants revenge.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. Explains the other room in any case.”

“The other room?”

Luther jerked his head towards the door with the window. “Take a look for yourself.”

Sam slowly unpeeled himself from the wall, made his way to the door and peered through the window. The next room was much bigger but just as bright, with its white tiled flooring and white walls. There was a large window across the length of one of the walls but from this position, Sam couldn’t see what was behind it.

“I still don’t get it.” Sam said.

Luther sighed. “It’s an execution chamber, Sammy. Back in the day, that’s where they used to kill the prisoners that were in for murder and the like. That big window you see? People would sit behind it and watch.”

Sam’s stomach churned at the thought. Humans pretended to be so high and mighty but they were just as twisted as the rest of the world.

“You think they’re gonna watch us? When we fight the wolf?”

“I’m certain of it.” Luther replied, dragging himself towards Sam to clamp a bony hand on his shoulder.

It was a little surprising, Luther trying to give some form of comfort but they were about to die. They both knew it. And that kind of knowledge can do things to a person.

“Sam, before this ends, I have a confession to make.”

“Shoot,” Sam said, past caring by this point.

“I know what you are.”

Sam choked on his next breath. Not quite as past caring as he thought. “What?”

“I know you’re a half blood.” Luther said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Luther gave a small smile. “Why bother denying it now? It’s not as if it really matters anymore.”

He was right, of course, but being found out had been one of Sam’s biggest fears all his life. It was hard to let that kind of thing go.

“Commander Orlov knew as well. Actually, he was the one that told me. He’d been suspicious of you for a while but after we fought the hunters outside the wall, he knew for sure. When you came back, you just stank of human.”

“Because I’d just been fighting humans and they bled all over me.” Sam said, forcing himself to stay calm.

“It’s not just the scent. It’s everything. Your lack of appetite, the way you heal slower than you should, the way you would look at humans…like you felt sorry for them.”

“You’re wrong,”

Luther tightened his grasp, nails digging painfully into Sam’s skin. “No, I’m right. And Commander Orlov was right. He knew he was. And that’s why he ordered me to kill you.”

Sam’s stomach dropped at the words. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

Luther chuckled lightly. “You think I threw the grenade at you just for the fun of it? We may have been rivals in school, Sammy, but I never wanted you dead. Not really. But then I find out you’re a half-blood. A freak. An abomination. We couldn’t just let you go, once we knew. You had to die and I was given the perfect opportunity to make sure that happened.”

Hurt stabbed through Sam’s heart with each word but he refused to let it show. He just glared at the vampire with every ounce of anger he could muster.

“Of course, I failed. You somehow made it through the explosion and okay, I was miffed at first, but right now, I’m thinking maybe there’s a reason you made it through and maybe there’s an up-side to you being half human.”

Luther pulled Sam in closer till they were practically nose to nose. For a skeleton, he sure was strong. “The way I see it. If we go up against a werewolf in this state, we die. No question about it but maybe…maybe if one of us had a little more strength, that one person kills the werewolf instead. And sure that person is still trapped here and will most likely still be killed but I’m willing to bet that that death will be cleaner than getting mauled on by a rabid dog.”

Sam watched as Luther’s eyes slowly shut and then snapped back open. The hollow look was gone completely, replaced by something Sam could only describe as hunger.

“I don’t want to get mauled by a rabid dog, Sammy.”

Before Sam could even struggle, Luther closed what little distance remained between them and bit into his neck, sharp fangs slicing through his skin with ease.  
Sam gasped in pain as he felt the drag of his blood as it was drawn from him, and tried to push Luther away but the vampire was a solid wall of flesh and bone and could not be moved no matter how hard Sam tried.

“Stop,” he growled, hitting at every inch of Luther he could reach, since pushing didn’t seem to work. “Get off me.”

Seemingly unaffected by the blows, Luther just drove Sam into a wall, keeping his mouth firmly latched to his throat.

Instinct kicked in and Sam was no longer in full control of his body. It moved by itself, his hands ripping at Luther’s hair, fingernails scratching, feet kicking but nothing worked. Sam only grew weaker as Luther grew stronger.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Sam as the lapping became more frenzied and he slumped back against the wall, waiting for the end.

Eventually, Luther stopped and slowly retracted his fangs. “You taste good, Sammy,” he murmured into his neck.

Sam shuddered in disgust and pushed again at Luther.

This time, the vampire stepped back willingly and already he was looking healthier. The skin on his chest knitting itself back together, bruises fading and colour returning to his cheeks.

He laughed, obviously pleased with himself. “I feel like I could take on a whole army right now.”

“It won’t make any difference,” Sam muttered. “That wolf is still going to kill you.”

“He can try.” Luther smirked.

A howl suddenly ripped through the air, causing every hair on Sam’s body to stand on end and the door to the chamber slid open.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! First of all I'd just like to thank everyone for all the wonderful comments and feedback I have received so far. You're all amazing people! I also just want to say that this chapter took some doing. I completely suck at fight scenes so I must have redone it about five times before settling on this. Sigh. Oh well, happy reading! =D

Luther didn't waste any time. The moment the door was open, he leapt forward into the chamber.

"Come and get it, you filthy mutt!" he bellowed with a ferocity that surprised even Sam, who stumbled after him, clinging to the wall for support, fatigue weighing him down and slowing his movements so much so that it felt as though he were walking under water.

Upon reaching the open doorway, he came to a stop, fear stilling his sluggish efforts altogether.

He couldn't see clearly as both Luther and the wolf were already engaged in a heated battle, grappling and snapping and snarling at each other as they fought frenziedly in the centre of the white room, but he could see enough to know that the Were was big, reaching a much larger height than any normal wolf could ever hope to reach.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied faces at the window. Luther was right; the humans were watching this. The glass was dark and it was hard to make out the features of everyone there but he could see John, stood tall and proud and grim at the very front of the small crowd and next to him was Gabriel, watching the fight before him with a rapt intensity.

Sam turned away, not wishing to know who else was there to view this morbid display.

Luther suddenly screamed. This time out of pain, not anger and Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was a battle and though he and Luther could no longer be called comrades, they both had a common enemy and that enemy was upon them.

He was weak and tired and unsure that he'd be able to do anything against such a great beast but he knew he couldn't just stand there and watch as someone he had grown up with was slaughtered.

With a groan of exertion, he managed to push himself from the wall and stagger towards the pair, not really knowing what he was going to do, unarmed as he was, just that he had to do something.

The wolf had Luther pinned under him, large claws digging deep into the vampires chest as he bucked and struggled uselessly under its weight.

The Were didn't even spare a glance at Sam as he crept up silently behind it, though whether that was because it really hadn't noticed him or because it didn't think he posed any kind of threat, he was unsure.

When Sam was close enough to touch the wolf, he leapt, not his usual graceful leap, more of a limp fall really, but he managed to land upon its back, wrap his arms around its middle and squeeze.

It probably didn't feel like much more than an overly tight embrace but the wolf reared back with a surprised yelp anyway.

Sam clung tighter and fought with the only weapon he had at his disposal.

He bit the wolf.

Right on the back of its neck.

Disgusting didn't even begin to cover it. Sam suddenly had a mouthful of coarse, bristly fur and his senses were overwhelmed by the stench of dog. Any blood that did manage to get past the beast's mane and into the vampire's mouth, he let dribble back out again.

Alongside Deadman's blood, Were's blood was also taboo. Sam wasn't sure why or what would happen to him he actively tried to drink it but the smell alone was enough to put him off.

The wolf snarled and twisted around to snap at Sam but at that moment, Luther, now free, sprung up from the ground and bound an arm around the creature's muzzle with a manic grin.

"You're like a cockroach, Sammy, no matter how many times I try to kill you, you just keep on coming back."

Sam came up for air and glared at Luther who just chuckled and tightened his grip on the struggling wolf.

"But right now, I'm grateful for it." And with that, Luther followed Sam's lead and bit into the wolf's neck.

No sooner had he done it that the wolf gave a mighty roar that shook the windows and hurt the ears as he reared back onto his hind legs and thrashed around so wildly that Luther immediately dropped back onto the floor and Sam was thrown aside to crash into the wall. His head hit the tiles with a resounding crack and his vision dimmed as he fell to the ground.

He looked about wildly and he struggled to his hands and knees, trying to see past the black dots dancing before his eyes and hear something beyond the shrill ringing in his ears.

Through the darkness, the shape of the wolf could just about be seen as it crept closer to a much smaller, crumpled figure just that could only be Luther.

A lot of what happened next was lost to Sam but there were screams, gut wrenching, terrible screams, flashes of bright red and the slick, wet sound of flesh being torn apart.

And then suddenly, before Sam even had the chance to register Luther's death, the Were was upon him, huge paws knocking him onto his back and then settling into place on either side of his shoulders, caging him in.

The shock of it seemed to momentarily disperse the shadows from Sam's sight, sending them to the very edge of his vision, not gone, just waiting, and he stared up in horrified wonder.

Up close, the wolf held a strange sort of beauty that he had not noticed before. Its gleaming coat was thick and dark, and its eyes (eyes that were glaring down at him with a rage so strong, Sam could practically feel it) were a dazzling, bright blue, the colour of a clear summer sky.

The sharp fangs protruding from its gaping maw, however, Sam could find nothing beautiful about. Especially when said fangs were now crimson with blood and lowering ever closer towards his exposed neck.

It was at that moment that Sam gave up. It was easy really. Not even a choice he consciously made. His mind just shut down and with it, everything else. He was filled with a sense of calm, all the aches and pains that had been a constant for Sam recently, fading away into nothing.

When the wolf's teeth closed around his throat, he closed his eyes, waiting for them to sink in and end it all.

A moment passed.

Two moments.

Sam opened his eyes when the Were suddenly pulled back, regarding the vampire with a confused tilt of the head before surging back down to bury its face into the side of Sam's neck, right where Luther had bitten him earlier, snuffling and sniffing with a cold, wet nose.

After what seemed like an age, the wolf slowly drew away, its features already shrinking back, dark fur receding until only pale skin could be seen.

Within seconds, it was no longer a wolf above Sam but a man. A man with a shock of black hair and the same blazing, blue eyes.

"What are you?" the man asked, voice like gravel.

Instead of answering, Sam finally allowed the darkness to take him.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

He dreamed.

He dreamed of the long summer nights of his youth, spent running around and exploring with Benny, of the young vampire girl he'd crushed on hard before realising she had a bigger appetite for blood than most of the adults he knew. He dreamed of his mother, stroking soft fingers through his hair whenever he was upset, and promising him that everything would be alright.

When he woke, soft hands were still threaded in his hair and for one disorienting moment, he thought he was back home.

But this time is was different. The hands were restricting, not comforting and there was something being held above his open mouth. Warmth trickled across his tongue, down his throat and instinct took over.

He seized hold of whatever it was at his mouth and bit into it, relishing the heat that flooded into his mouth and the feeling of euphoria that shot through his veins, the feeling of life.

He hadn't drunk nearly enough when what he was biting into began to pull away. With a whimper, he followed it, reluctant to let it go but then the hands at his head pulled back and he didn't have the strength to fight them. His mouth relinquished its hold with a small pop as he fell back onto something soft and springy.

"Did he get enough?" a voice asked and Sam's eyes sprung open to find Dean standing over him, with a pained face and clutching a bleeding arm to his chest.

Cold realisation washed through Sam. What had he done? Suddenly it wasn't warmth and life he could taste in his mouth, it was blood, cloying and coppery and oh so wrong.

He twisted to his side, retching violently; so hard that it brought tears to his eyes.

"Hold him!" a voice cried, this one belonging to a female, presumably the one who had been holding his head.

More hands appeared before him, obviously trying to follow the woman's orders but he twisted further away to escape their grasp, only to find the soft surface beneath him disappear.

He gasped when he hit the hard floor, dimly noting he'd just fallen out of bed, and scrambled back until he hit the wall, breathing hard and trying to stop the rolling in his stomach.

"Hey, hey," Dean said soothingly, holding his hands up in surrender as he approached and knelt slowly before Sam. "You're okay. You're okay now."

Sam stared at the blood running down the bite in Dean's arm, feeling queasy and more than a little guilty.

Dean noticed the look but didn't understand the reason behind it. "Are you still hungry?" he asked, extending his arm out yet again and Sam recoiled, pressing himself further into the wall.

"No! I don't want it. I don't want it."

Just as quickly as he had extended his arm, Dean yanked it back. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Sam closed his eyes and just breathed. Trying to make sense of everything. Trying to understand how he had gone from fighting off a werewolf to fighting off a feeding.

"Where am I?" he asked finally.

"The infirmary," the female voice answered and Sam looked up at her as she walked around the bed to stand behind Dean. She was pretty, in a motherly kind of way, with short dark hair and warm brown eyes. "You were badly hurt. To tell you the truth you almost died. You'd lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. So we decided to give you some." she clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Universal donor," Dean shrugged with a lopsided smile.

"And it seems to be working wonders," the woman continued. "You're already looking much better."

Sam glanced down at himself and sure enough, the cuts and bruises he had acquired during his stay here were beginning to close up and heal. Not as fast as Luther's had but they at least hurt a lot less.

Before he could think on it further, the doors on the other side of the room flew open and in strode the same man that had pinned Sam to floor just a while earlier, Garth bustling in behind him.

Dean stood slowly, placing himself directly between the werewolf prince and Sam, who found the gesture strangely endearing but completely unnecessary. If the Were wanted him dead, he would have killed him already.

“Your Highness, I really think that we should wait for him to recover before - ” Garth started but was silenced when the prince raised his hand. “You may go.”

Garth stumbled to a halt, looking vaguely insulted, before giving a heavy sigh and withdrawing from the room.

“Dean,” The Were greeted, nodding at the hunter. “Doctor Mills.”

“Your Highness,” the woman, Doctor Mills, replied.

“How is he?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Dean replied stonily.

The prince blinked, as if surprised by Dean’s tone (which he probably was – he was a prince after all) and then turned his piercing gaze down on Sam, who suddenly felt very silly, huddled on the floor as he was.

“Are you recovered?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m alive.”

“Good. Then I suppose you won’t mind answering my earlier question.” He stepped closer until he was practically on top of Sam again, completely ignoring the daggers Dean was glaring into his back.

“I’ll ask you only once more. What _are_ you?”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. So here's the next chapter. Yay! Thanks again for the support you've all given me throughout the writing of this story. I literally coudn't believe all the wonderful comments that were left on my last chapter. Anyways, enjoy!

What are you?

The question was simple enough. But it was one that Sam didn't care to answer. If his own people were willing to kill him because of what he was, then he didn't want to know what a group of humans and werewolves would do to him.

Using the wall for support, Sam dragged himself to his feet, refusing to let the prince tower over him any longer, and felt a smug sense of satisfaction in the fact that, when stood, he was taller that the Were's human form by a good few inches.

The prince looked up at him expectantly. "Well?"

Sam just raised an eyebrow and flashed him a grin full of fangs, trying to exude a confidence he certainly wasn't feeling. "I'm a vampire. I thought that much was obvious."

The prince growled deep in his throat, sounding very much like the wolf he had been earlier. "What is obvious to me is that you have allied yourself with the vampires. You have perhaps even taken up some of their more heinous habits - " he cast a glance over Sam's face, no doubt taking note of the blood still smeared across his lips from the feeding that took place only moments ago. "But you are not one of them."

"Of course I am,"

"Do NOT lie to me!" the prince roared.

"Prince Castiel," Dean started, hands stretched out in appeal but the Were refused to be placated.

"Do not interfere, Winchester. This matter does not concern you." The prince, Castiel, snapped before turning his attention back to Sam. "I could smell your blood, what little you had left of it, back in the chamber. I know for a fact that you are not what you say you are. It would be in your best interest to tell me the truth. Remember, your fate rests with me now."

The threat was obvious and Sam could tell that he meant it.

He looked Castiel in the eye, taking in the fierce determination and anger that swam in those icy blue depths, feeling certain that that very same glare had probably prompted many confessions in its time. But it wasn't the anger or the determination that made up his mind in the end. It was what he saw hiding under those emotions. Something excited and curious and confused all at the same time. Something that made Sam think that maybe, just maybe, telling the truth this time would lead to his salvation instead of his doom.

He heaved in a breath, eyes never straying from Castiel's own, trying to draw whatever strength he could from them.

"I'm a Half-blood," he said finally.

It was strange to actually say the words out loud. He had been sworn to silence his whole life and now here he was, confessing his most guarded secret to his enemies and captors. And they hadn't even tortured it out of him.

"A Half-blood? You're saying you are half vampire?" Castiel asked.

"Yes."

"But what's the other half?" Dean cut in.

Old fear began to rise up but Sam pushed it stubbornly back down. He could do this.

He met Dean's questioning gaze and said simply, "Human."

Doctor Mills gasped and Dean made an odd choking sound while Castiel just nodded, as though he had expected this all along.

"Is that even possible?" Doctor Mills asked.

Sam shrugged. "I'm living proof of it."

"You're human?" Dean said, voice breaking upon the word. He looked positively devastated by the news.

Another shrug. "Only half."

The infirmary door swung open once again, this time revealing John and Gabriel.

Aside from Gordon, they were possibly the two people Sam least wanted to see.

They stepped inside, warily assessing the atmosphere of the room, their gaze flitting from face to face as everyone turned to stare at them.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Gabriel said eventually.

"Not at all," Castiel said in answer, making his way over to his brother. "In fact, you're just in time. Our fanged friend here was just telling us how he's a Half-blood."

Gabriel's eyes widened slightly and John's head snapped up in surprise.

"He's a what?"

"A Half-blood," Castiel repeated calmly. "Half vampire, half human."

"I didn't think that was possible."

"They're rare." Gabriel said, staring at Sam with a newfound interest that made the vampire feel as though spiders were crawling up his back. "Really rare. A vampire and human coupling is uncommon enough but the chances of them actually managing to conceive a child are astronomically low."

"Yet here he is," John murmured.

Dean ran a shaky hand through his hair, still looking a lot like someone had just kicked his favourite puppy, and John's voice went from wonder to anger in an instant.

"Did he attack you?"

"Huh?" Dean asked eloquently.

Sam realised where John was now staring. Right at the arm that he had bitten, where the wound had thankfully stopped bleeding but still looked a bit of a mess.

Well, crap.

Dean noticed a second later and shot a terrified glance is Sam's direction before turning back to his father. "No. No, of course not."

"Then what is that?" John gestured at the offending arm.

"I...he..." Dean floundered helplessly. "He was going to die."

John was silent for a moment, clearly working it out in his head. Then it clicked.

"You LET him bite you?" he thundered.

"I had to. I couldn't just let him…he only needed a bit."

"And you let this happen?" John rounded on Doctor Mills.

"I suggested it." Doctor Mills, said, squaring her shoulders.

For a second, Sam was seriously worried that John was going to hit her. He certainly looked ready to, hands clenched tightly at his sides, trembling with what could only be described as barely controlled rage.

"Your son is fine, John." Gabriel intervened suddenly. "I'd be able to smell it if he were in any distress and he isn't. The half-blood really didn't take all that much."

John clearly wasn't appeased by the words but he at least stopped shaking.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, Sam slumped back onto one of the two beds in the room, the one he had woken up in earlier. He really needed sleep. And food. And some water would be nice too.

"So what happens now?" Dean asked. "With Sam, I mean."

He looked at John as he spoke but the man just shook his head, "That isn't up to me anymore. The fang belongs to the Novak's now."

Sam bristled silently. He belonged to no one.

"We will keep him alive." Castiel said and Sam gave a quiet sigh of relief. Telling the truth had paid off after all.

"For now," Gabriel added.

Sam really hated that guy.

"Look after him," the younger prince instructed Doctor Mills as he made his way over to the door. "Let's go, brother, we have much to discuss."

With one last appraising glance at Sam, Gabriel followed Castiel out of the room.

"Well now," Doctor Mills said the moment they were gone. "I think it's time our patient got some rest, don't you?"

Dean nodded his head emphatically but John just crossed his arms over his chest and said gruffly, "No, I don't."

"Dad, come on." Dean groaned.

"I still have questions."

"And I'm sure they can wait until after he wakes up." Doctor Mills retorted. "Look at the poor boy, he can barely keep his eyes open."

Sam jerked in the bed, sitting up straight from where he had slumped over and snapping eyes he hadn't meant to close back open. He needed to be careful or he was going to fall out of bed again.

"He's gone through enough today, I think." Doctor Mills continued.

"Come on, Dad, let's just go." Dean tried again, even pushing at John's shoulder a little in order to get him to move but John just shook him off.

"Is it your father or your mother?"

Sam blinked tiredly, "What?"

"Is it your father who is human or your mother?"

"My father," Sam answered slowly, not understanding why this conversation was more important than sleep.

"And he lives with you in the city?"

Sam snorted in amusement. A human living in the vampire capital of the world? The very idea was ludicrous.

"No. The guy took off before I was even born."

The colour slowly drained from John's face.

"Dad, are you okay?" Dean asked, the beginnings of concern in his voice.

John strode right up to Sam who leant back on the bed in an attempt to keep at least some of his personal space.

"What is her name?" John sounded almost desperate now. "Your mother's name, what is it?"

It was like being interrogated all over again. Sam suddenly felt as though he were strapped back down on that chair in that horrible, dank cell.

He would not answer. He would not give in!

He glared up at the hunter. "Her name is _Mom._ "

John's stark white face began to redden, eyes darkening dangerously but before anything more could be said or done, Dean grabbed hold of his father's arms and pulled him away, with much more force than he had used in his previous attempt.

"We're leaving now." He said. "Bye, Sam. Bye, Jodie."

A ringing silence descended when the door closed behind the hunters.

"Are you trying to get yourself thrown back into jail?" Doctor Mills said before the silence could thicken.

Sam didn't reply, too busy trying to bring himself back to the present.

The doctor pulled Sam's covers back and helped him under them. The cotton sheets felt heavenly against his skin.

"You really should try to get some rest."

Sam nodded.

"Is there anything I can get you before I go?"

Sam thought for a moment. "Actually, I am really thirsty."

Doctor Mills raised an eyebrow and pulled her arms back from where she'd been tucking him in.

"Not like that." He amended quickly. "I meant water. I haven't had any in…" he trailed off, unsure of the last time he'd actually had a proper drink. "In a long time," he finished lamely.

Doctor Mills smiled sympathetically. "One drink of water coming right up."

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

When Sam next awoke, it was to almost complete darkness, the only source of light coming from the moon that shone though the barred window on the far wall.

For a few minutes, he just lay there, revelling in a comfort he hadn't felt in for what seemed like forever. Doctor Mills (or Jodie, as she had told him to call her during her last visit) didn't just bring him a glass of water, she brought him a whole jug full. And he managed to finish off a good portion of it before sleep overcame him.

He was well watered, well rested and felt almost completely normal. The only thing really bothering him now was his grumbling stomach, which interrupted his revelling all too soon.

"I should have asked for an apple as well." Sam decided aloud as his gut gave a particularly loud groan. "Or three."

He settled back into the pillows, resigning himself to wait until morning came. It was the only thing he could do really. Short of wandering outside of the infirmary in search of food and likely getting himself shot in the process.

He had only closed his eyes for a second, when he heard the pad of footsteps. Footsteps that were trying to be quiet but were no match for Sam's supernatural hearing.

"Doctor Mills?" He called softly as he sat up.

There was no answer except for the sound of footsteps drawing ever nearer.

"Jodie?"

The steps stopped directly behind the door and Sam decided to try one more time. "Dean?"

The door opened slowly and Sam's gurgling stomach dropped several feet when he realised it wasn't Jodie or Dean sneaking into his room in the dead of night but John Winchester.

Sam wasn't sure what the man wanted but he knew it couldn't be anything good.

John closed the door quietly behind him and Sam readied himself to start shouting blue murder.

As if reading his mind, John shot forward, (faster than any human had a right to be, even for a hunter) clamped a hand over Sam's mouth and shoved him back down onto the bed.

Sam gave a muffled yelp and began to struggle wildly. He wasn't going to let the hunter kill him that easily. Not after everything he'd been through in order to make it this far.

"Stop it," John growled. "I said stop."

Sam continued his thrashing and managed to throw the hunter off him.

"I'm not here to hurt you." John said, pulling himself back onto his feet but making no further move to approach the vampire.

Sam jumped from the bed, bearing his fangs and wanting very much to hiss, something he always tried to refrain from doing. He wasn't a complete savage.

"Then what do you want?"

"To show you a picture."

That stopped Sam in his tracks. "What?"

"Please."

Sam slowly retracted his fangs. The human seemed genuine enough. "If this is a trick…"

"It's not." John assured, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket. "Just look at it."

With a sigh, Sam reached out and took the paper from John. He turned it to face him and his breath caught painfully in his throat.

It was a photograph, worn and yellowing from age but beautiful all the same.

The woman on it was young, somewhere in her early twenties, with long blonde hair, pale green eyes and a brilliant smile.

"Why do you have this?" Sam asked, confusion and longing warring within him. "Why do you have a picture of my mom?"

John made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

"Because she's my wife."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone! I'm so sorry for being so late with this one. I swear the story gods have been working against me all this month. Whenever I tried to find time to sit down and write, something else came up that I just couldn't ignore. So I locked myself in my room last night and refused to come out until I was finished...except for food, because chilli is just too good to refuse. =D But anyways, here it is. Happy reading!

Words failed Sam for a moment. What was he even supposed to say to that? It was so obviously untrue that he would have laughed in the hunter's face, if he weren't so busy trying to figure out John's angle.

"You're lying," was the statement he settled for when his brain finally reconnected with his mouth.

John shook his head hard. "I'm not."

Sam looked back down at the aged photograph, taking in the planes of the woman's face, the ever so slightly crooked smile and the green eyes that twinkled with a barely contained mischief. There was no way that this wasn't his mom.

"What is your mother's name?" John repeated his earlier question, voice soft this time instead of demanding.

For a second, Sam considered refusing to answer again. It was none of the hunter's business after all. But Sam had questions of his own now. Questions that might get answers if he cooperated at least a little.

"Her name is Mary," he said finally, glancing up at John to gauge his reaction.

The hunter stared back at him with dark, impossibly wide eyes and Sam had trouble trying to place the emotion on his face but if he had to guess, he would have said it was something close to horror.

"Campbell?" John whispered and then it was Sam's turn to be horrified. The last thread of hope he had clung to, the hope that the picture was some kind of trick or a purely bizarre coincidence, snapped.

John was telling the truth. How else would he have known that name? Sam had never mentioned it before, he was sure.

He shook his head in denial. "This isn't happening."

None of it made sense to him. His mom had never mentioned being married to anyone, much less a hunter!

John opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut again when the sound of two sets of footsteps hurrying down the outside corridor reached their ears.

"Sam?" Jodie's voice called, right before she and Bobby came racing into the room.

She flipped on the lights and then groaned when she saw John. "And here I was hoping Bobby was just being paranoid. Let me tell you now, John Winchester, if you have harmed my patient in any way, there will be hell to pay."

Bobby stepped forward. "What are you doing here, John? The vamp is Novak's prisoner now. You said so yourself. You have no business with him."

"But Bobby, he's…I'm…" John struggled out before taking a steadying breath. "He's Mary's son."

There was an ear shattering silence after the statement left the hunter's lips and both Jodie and Bobby stared at Sam like they were seeing him for the first time.

The attention was uncomfortable to say the least and Sam felt a childish urge to crawl back under the covers of his bed and just disappear for a while.

When the silence was almost unbearable, Bobby broke it. "Mary…as in your wife, Mary?"

"Yes," John breathed.

"But I thought she was dead?" Jodie broke in.

"She's not dead." Bobby said. "Not in the conventional way in any case. That's just what we told everyone."

Jodie frowned in confusion but didn't question the matter further. Instead she turned her attention back to Sam. "Wait. So you're Mary Winchester's son?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm Mary Campbell's son."

Jodie blinked. "Maiden name. Right. Sorry. You're Mary Campbell's son?"

Sam nodded.

"And you say your father was human?"

He nodded again.

"So then…" she looked at John, clearly putting the pieces together in her head.

Bobby finished her unasked question. "John, do you think that this boy is your son?"

Sam couldn't believe what was happening right now. It was like he was stuck in some awful nightmare. If it was true…if Sam really was John's son…well, that was something he didn't really want to think about.

It was strange. He'd spent a lot of his childhood wondering who his father was, wishing he could meet him at least once just so he could know what he looked like, what his voice sounded like. But now that he was here, stood before his potential paternal parent, he wished more than anything that he had never met him.

"John, do you think that this is your son?" Bobby asked again.

John nodded slowly, averting his gaze from Sam as he did so. He was pale again, skin almost translucent under the florescent lighting.

"No," Sam growled and everyone else jumped a little, clearly not expecting his input. "I am not his son. And he is not my father. I don't have a father."

"Well, I doubt you were immaculately conceived." Bobby grumbled.

Sam threw him a sour look before glaring back at John. "And besides that, what you're saying makes no sense. You're a hunter. Why on earth would you marry a vampire?"

John looked taken aback for a moment but then his face clouded over as he replied. "I didn't marry a vampire. I married a human."

"But my mom is a vampire."

"She wasn't always."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Sam ground out, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. His mom had been human once? She'd never told him that. She'd never even hinted at it.

"Mary was human when I met her. We were teenagers when she moved into the town I grew up in." John said, no longer looking at Sam but through him, already lost in his memories.

"She came from a family of hunters. She was actually the one who introduced me to the business. I won't say it was love at first sight. She actually punched me in the mouth for being rude the first time me met but we did eventually fall in love and we were married the moment we graduated school. A few years after that, she told me she was pregnant." He snapped out of his reverie to look at the photograph still clutched tightly in Sam's hand. "In fact, I took that picture the very same day that we found out she was going to have Dean."

Sam's stomach lurched. He hadn't even thought of that. If John truly was his father then Dean was his brother, and possibly Adam too. He'd always wanted siblings but this wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.

John continued, "We were so happy and only a few years after that, she was pregnant again and we decided to get out of the hunting business so that we could focus on raising our family. But a friend of ours, Bill Harvelle, needed help with one last hunt. Just one. And then we were done. It was that one hunt that changed everything.

"We were tailing a group of fangs. Something we had done a hundred times over already but they must have caught our scent. Before we knew what was happening, they were on us. They killed Bill before going for Mary and I, giving us chance to fight back but there were too many of them and they took a liking to Mary, told her she'd make a great pet." He spat out the word angrily and Sam felt himself go cold.

"They held me down whilst one of them sliced open his wrist and forced Mary to drink…" John trailed off, face awash with grief.

"That's when Ellen and I arrived." Bobby stepped in to finish the story. We killed the rest of the vamps off together but we were too late to save Mary and Bill."

Sam frowned. They hadn't been too late to save Mary. She was still alive.

"We stayed with her," John said, voice rough and breaking. "We hoped, I hoped, that maybe Mary hadn't drunk enough of the blood for it to have been affective but all it took was a few hours. And she was changed."

Sam was breathing hard by the time John finished his story. There was no wonder his mom never mentioned her previous life. Why she always looked so sad whenever Sam tried to ask about his father.

"And that's when you abandoned her?" Sam ground out. "When she was confused and scared out of her mind, when she had nothing and no one to turn to except for her husband, you just ran off and left her on her own?"

"It wasn't - "

"You betrayed her!" Sam yelled, anger and hurt roiling inside him.

"What was I supposed to do? She was a vampire. It was either leave her or kill her. And I couldn't kill her. I just couldn't."

"Those were not the only options. You could have stayed with her. Taken care of her. Helped her."

"No - "

"She loved you."

At this, John's face crumpled in devastation and he staggered back as if struck. Then, without another word, he turned and fled from the room.

Sam watched him leave, wishing he could feel some form of satisfaction from knowing he'd managed to hurt the hunter, the man who'd hurt his mom, but he felt nothing.

"I can see her in you, now," Bobby said. "Only Mary could wound John that much using only words. You really are her son, aren't you?"

Sam said nothing and Bobby sighed. "Well, this situation just got a whole lot more complicated. I'm going to go check on John. You two should get some rest. There's still a few hours till sun up. Goodnight."

Jodie bid him goodnight too and then proceeded to usher Sam back into bed but he knew there was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep now. His head was in too much of a mess.

When morning came, and Sam was still as messy-headed and sleep deprived as he had been a few hours ago, he was allowed something he hadn't had in a long while.

A shower.

He hadn't really taken any notice of what he'd smelled like but in the past couple of weeks he'd bled, sweat, vomited down his front and then bled some more. He probably reeked something awful.

Jodie certainly seemed to think so when she'd gotten close enough to inspect his healing wounds, if the barely controlled gagging was anything to go by.

After she had finished the brief examination, Sam suddenly had his arms full of clean clothes and towels and was being ushered into a small adjoining bathroom, complete with corner shower.

The warm water felt incredible as it ran down his skin and washed off layers of grime and filth. And there was soap, shampoo and even a razor in there for him to use. He didn't really have much of a beard. That was still something he seemed unable to fully grow but he certainly had a lot of itchy, wiry whiskers that he couldn't wait to get rid of.

After he'd washed, he tried on the clothes, just a simple pair of briefs, jeans and a white t-shirt and they fit for the most part. The jean legs were maybe a little too short but it wasn't all that noticeable. Besides, right now, they could have been half way up his shins and he wouldn't have cared. He was clean.

"That's much better," Jodie commented when he exited the bathroom, fresh faced, glossy haired and smelling faintly of coconut thanks to the shampoo. "You actually look human now."

Sam raised an eyebrow and she quickly added, "Or half-human…whatever."

"What should I do with those?" he indicated the soiled pants he had left discarded on the bathroom floor.

"Just leave them there. I'll burn them later."

Sam inwardly conceded that that probably was about all they were good for now.

"Well, now that we've sorted out your need for hygiene, we have only one more problem to sort out." Jodie said.

Before Sam could ask what that problem was his stomach gave a particularly vicious growl and Jodie barked a laugh. "Yes, that's the one. When was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday," Sam supplied immediately, and whilst Dean's blood had most definitely saved his life, he was still a little horrified for losing himself like that.

"I mean, the last time you had more than just a couple of mouthfuls."

Sam cast his mind back and though he could remember the last time he ate, he didn't know how long ago that had been. He shrugged.

Jodie sighed. "I thought as much. Okay, so here's the problem." She sat down on Sam's newly changed bed and patted the space next to her, waiting for Sam to situate himself too.

Once he was sat down, she explained. "You're a vampire. Or at least, you're half vampire."

Sam nodded, he was with her so far.

"Which means you feed on blood. Which I'm sure seems perfectly normal to you but to us, it's not. In fact, most people here would be repulsed by the very idea so finding willing donors is going to be difficult."

Willing donors? The idea both disgusted and comforted Sam. Jodie really must care for him at least to some degree if she was thinking about this.

But blood wasn't what he wanted. It was never what he wanted.

"No," Sam interrupted. "I don't need donors."

Jodie frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, Sam prepared himself to release another closely guarded secret. He had confessed so many of them already. He had even told everyone he was a half-blood. What was one more truth?

"I don't need blood. Normal food works just as well…and it tastes better too."

"Are you serious? You really don't need…" A small smile worked its way onto Jodie's face. "That makes breakfast so much easier."

Sam wanted to make it even easier for her. "I like apples," he suggested, before recalling his last solid meal. "And granola bars."

Jodie chuckled. "As glad as I am to hear it, that won't be what you're getting." Jodie stood and made her way over to the door. "You haven't eaten properly for a long time so I doubt your stomach could handle something like that at the moment. I'll fetch you some porridge for now. How does that sound?"

"Porridge?" Sam asked. He had never heard that word before. It must have been another unknown human meal.

"You've never had porridge before?"

"No."

Jodie gave him a grin. "Well, considering you have such a fondness for granola bars, I think you're going to love it."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys! I'm so sorry for the ridiculous amount of time it's taken me to upload this chapter. Life has been crazy busy but im pleased to announce that this year's exams are now over for me and so I can focus more of my energy onto finishing this story. Yay! Anyways, to all those who are still reading this fic, thanks for sticking with it, you awesome, impossibly patient people! =D

To Sam's great disappointment, it turned out porridge was nothing like granola bars. Where the bars were hard and chewy and sweet, Sam's bowl was full of something wet and strangely lumpy with only the vaguest taste of honey to sweeten it.

He spooned it down, regardless. He was starving after all, in the most literal sense of the word, and the warm mush really did help to fill him in a way that left him feeling both revitalized and content.

Jodie left him part way through the meal, explaining that she had other patients to attend to but that she would come back to check on him every now and again.

Which was just fine by Sam, it gave him more time to think things through. He was still reeling from the news that John Winchester was his father. His father! A hunter that he despised only a little less than Gordon, someone who almost certainly returned the negative feelings, was the same man that his Mom had fallen in love with all those years ago.

And according to John and the others, his Mom had once been human. That fact was even harder to swallow than the one about his parentage. She had been human and pregnant with him when she was turned, which consequently turned him too, at least half way.

After Sam had scraped his bowl clean and downed his glass of water, he set the tray aside and picked up the old picture of his Mom again. John probably hadn't meant to leave it behind but he had and Sam was a firm believer of 'Finders, keepers'. The photo was his now.

He was again stuck by a sense of longing and homesickness as he stroked a thumb over his Mom's blond curls.

He had been away from home for far too long. And his Mom must have been beside herself with worry. Did she even know he was alive or would she believe him dead as Commander Orlov and the other soldiers probably did. He desperately hopped it wasn't the latter.

"I'll find a way to come back to you, Mom. I promise."

Exactly how he was going to do this, he was unsure. He was being held prisoner by his enemies and his supposed allies wanted him dead but he would find his way back to her, even if it killed him.

There was a quiet knock at the door and he hastily stuffed the photo back under his pillow as whoever it was inched the door open without waiting for a response.

His chest tightened when he saw Dean's head poke through the gap, eyes scrunched tightly closed. Sam had a feeling he was in for yet another uncomfortable family discussion and he wasn't sure he was ready for that just yet.

"You decent?" Dean asked, popping one eye open to ascertain the answer for himself.

After spying a fully dressed Sam sitting on the bed, he opened his other eye and grinned. "Oh good, you are. There's nothing more awkward than walking in on another dude when he's still in his birthday suit."

"That's why you wait for them to reply before walking right in, Dean. Gah, you're so annoying." Adam piped up from somewhere behind his older brother. "Hi Sam." A small hand suddenly shot through the remaining space of the open door and waved vigorously in front of Dean's face.

"Eugh," Dean batted the hand away in irritation. "And you say I'm the annoying one?"

Sam smirked. This was why he'd always wanted a brother. So he could have someone to lovingly poke fun at and engage in friendly banter, without fear of being slapped upside the head like he did whenever he tried to (good-humouredly) mock Benny.

"Well, are you just going to sit there and gawk or are you going to come with us?" Dean asked, interrupting his reverie.

"What?"

"We're breaking you out." Dean explained. "Well, no, not really, but Adam and I wanted to go out for a walk and we figured you could do with some fresh air. You feel up to it?"

Sam couldn't stand up fast enough. His quick answer of "Yes," sounded just short of desperate, even to his ears.

Dean moved to let Sam out and clapped a welcoming hand on his shoulder as he passed. "You're looking better."

"So are you," Sam replied as they started down a corridor that was decorated exactly like the tiled room they had just left.

And he really did. Dean was the very picture of health. If Sam hadn't known any better, he never would have guessed that the hunter was still injured. He walked with a confident swagger and wore a long sleeve flannel shirt that was far too warm for this season but covertly covered up what he needed to hide.

"Has your arm healed yet?"

"The burned one or the one you took a chunk out of yesterday?"

Sam winced and looked away.

"I'm kidding," Dean chortled. "Sorry, that was in bad taste. The bitten one is all on me, I know, but in answer to your question, both are doing fine. The burns are pretty much gone now. I just have an unusually pink arm on one side, and Jodi says that'll fade with time."

"Yeah, but for now he's stuck looking like some strange human – lobster hybrid." Adam snickered, shooting them both a cheeky grin. He was dressed similarly to Dean, Jeans and flannel, but his shirt had short sleeves.

"Loser," Dean muttered but Sam saw him grin too.

Dean opened the door at the end of the hallway and Sam only had a second, as he stepped through, to be surprised that it wasn't locked, when a vice like hand shot out to grip his elbow and keep him in place. Of course, it was guarded instead.

"What in the world are you doing out of your room?" a familiar voice exclaimed.

Sam glanced down and found himself looking at a wide eyed Garth.

"You've got to go back. Right now…" he trailed off when he caught sight of the Winchester brothers. "Dean, what are you doing? You know the orders as well as me. The prisoner is to stay in his room until the Novak princes have decided what to do with him."

Dean shrugged. "Well I guess the orders changed because it was Prince Castiel himself who gave me the go ahead."

Garth faltered. "He did?"

Sam had to admit, he was surprised as well. He hadn't spent all that much time with the werewolf but going off what little interaction they'd had, 'considerate' wasn't really a word Sam would have used to describe the prince.

"Of course he did. You really think I'd just take his prisoner out and about without asking his permission first?" Dean snorted. "I'm not that stupid."

Garth still looked uneasy but in the end agreed to let them pass.

They managed to make it to the front doors without any other incident. They received some questioning looks from a few of the people milling around and scathing glares from others but no one else confronted them.

The rush of exhilaration Sam felt when he saw the exit in sight was almost laughable. He felt like a kid again, overly excited just because he was allowed to go outside to play.

He was just about to open the doors when Adam stopped him.

"Wait, I brought you something." He rummaged behind a large, leafy plant in the corner of the room for a moment before pulling out something long and black, with a sleek, curved handle.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You got me an umbrella?"

"Yeah, I don't know how long we'll be outside but last time you got burned real bad. This should help." Adam grinned from ear to ear, looking incredibly pleased with himself and Sam's heart melted a little.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, as he took the proffered item. It actually would be handy to keep around.

He didn't need it straight away. His human side protect him for a while but Adam just stood there, waiting expectantly and Sam knew he wasn't getting outside until he used his gift.

With an internal sigh, he opened up the umbrella. It was big enough to fit about three of him under there.

Adam's smile became impossibly wider and then together with Dean, they stepped out into the sunshine.

They had been walking for around half an hour by the time they reached a small wooded area that offered them natural protection from the sun and the heat. They made small talk the whole way, telling each other about their favourite foods, their interests, hobbies and their dislikes. And whenever there was a lull in the conversation, Adam would jump in and regale them both with a story from his childhood. They usually involved him playing some sort of prank on some poor, unsuspecting person and getting away scott-free each time because everyone thought it was Dean.

Dean didn't seem to mind. "I got my own back eventually." He told Sam conspiratorially. "A little bit of Nair in his shampoo and the temporary cue ball never tried to frame me again."

The outing was fun but as much as Sam enjoyed himself, he couldn't help but think that they were skirting around the big issue, none of them wanting to be the first to bring it up.

They hiked their way through the trees for a little while longer before they came to a sudden stop.

"Here we are," Dean announced. "Our home away from home. Adam and I used to come here all the time when we were younger. Sometimes it's nice to just get away from the rest of the world."

Sam was still looking for this 'home away from home' when Adam moved some dense underbrush aside to reveal a little alcove, sheltered completely by low hanging branches and thick, thistly bushes.

"Mind your head," Dean warned him before crawling in first.

It was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. It reminded Sam of being in one of the five-man tents they used back in the army. Of course, this tent would shred your skin open if you tried to touch the sides but it was more or less the same.

It was circular in shape and fit the three of them easily, although standing was impossible. Even Adam, who was a whole two feet smaller than the others, was unable to stand up completely straight in there.

Once they were all sat down, Dean looked Sam straight in the eye, all former joviality seemingly gone. "So, Sam, we need to talk."

Sam barely supressed the urge to gulp. This was what he was afraid was going to happen. "Yeah," he managed to croak out. "I guess we do."

"I know my dad went to see you last night." Dean started. "I know this because he told me. Which was weird 'cause usually, Dad never tells me anything, always has that lone wolf thing going on. But last night I found him on his bedroom floor, curled up around a bottle of whisky and completely out of his head. He gave up drinking two years ago, Sam, so I knew something was wrong right away."

Sam's heart sank, remembering the vicious glee he had felt when he hurt the man enough to send him running from the room.

"I'm not blaming you," Dean quickly added when he saw Sam's drooping expression, which only added to half-vampire's guilt. "I'm just letting you know that this whole situation has him wrecked.

Anyway, I managed to coax the information out of him and he told me everything. He told me the truth about Mary, my Mom, who I thought had died when I was just a kid. He told me how she was your Mom too." Dean paused to take in a shaky breath, he eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He told me we were brothers."

Sam nodded slowly. "It would seem that we are."

A strained silence followed his remark.

"Well," Adam said eventually. "Welcome to the family, I guess."

The tension in the air lessoned considerably after that and both Sam and Dean huffed out a small laugh.

"I just can't believe it," Dean breathed. "Dad never told us that we had another brother, or that my Mom was still alive."

"I get the impression that he didn't know either. At least not for sure." Sam said before mentally kicking himself. He needed to be careful or he was going to sound like he was defending the older hunter.

"Can you tell me about her? Can you tell me about Mom?"

Sam thought for a moment, wondering what he could possibly say that would even begin to remotely describe his mother. "She's amazing," he settled with in the end. "She has this ability to make you feel better, even if you've just had the worst day imaginable, purely by being in the same room as you. She's a great cook too, even though she doesn't get all that many chances to cook anything since she started living in the City. And she's feisty. No one ever dares mess with her because they know she'll give as good as she gets."

"She sounds awesome," Dean grinned.

"She is - " Sam started but broke off as a sudden howl pierced the air. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end a sick feeling of Déjà vu washed over him in a cold wave. He knew that howl anywhere.

"Aw Crap," Dean muttered.

"Aw crap?" Sam questioned, very much on edge now.

"Dean, you did get Prince Castiel's permission to bring Sam here, right?" Adam asked quietly. "That's what you said."

"Yeah, I may have stretched the truth a little for Garth's benefit."

"How much is a little?" Sam whispered harshly.

"Fine, I didn't ask him at all, okay? But. I mean, it's not as if I let you escape or anything. We just went for a walk. There's no harm in that."

There was another howl, this time closer and followed by a series of angry snarls, and Sam couldn't help but shrink back at the sound, ignoring the thorns that snagged at the back of his t-shirt.

"I'm dead." He groaned.


End file.
